Death God of New York
by baynard
Summary: Ten years after the Winter War, Ichigo lives a relatively peaceful life in New York city. He is content running his clinic, leading a solitary life well away from the dangers of being a shinigmai. All that changes when a certain spider enters his life bringing about all sorts of problems he thought he'd left behind. Saving the world seems kind of bland when you've done it before.
1. Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff paged through the relatively sparse dossier that Director Fury had just handed over. There really wasn't much to indicate that the target was extraordinary in any manner, in fact the file seemed to indicate a relatively ordinary individual. Thirty year old male, general medical practitioner who ran his own clinic in a small sleepy town a few miles south of New York City. Came to America for his degree at Stanford, graduated at an accelerated pace with honors. No criminal history in the United States, his home country of Japan or anywhere else for that matter. No wife or girlfriend of note, just a father and two sisters still living in Japan.

"This guy seems totally normal compared to the other people we're trying to recruit," she said when she finished speed-reading through the documents. "What's so special about him?"

Her boss rubbed a thumb absentmindedly against his eye patch, one of his unconscious tics when he was annoyed with something. Probably something to do with his early afternoon visit with Stark. The Invincible Iron Man always seemed to be able to get under the normally unflappable director's skin.

"He's one of the few on the list that we suspect might have powers but have no definitive proof of. There were some scattered reports of unusual happenings in his hometown in his youth, and he always seemed involved in one way or another. Normally I would focus our attention on recruiting the people we know for sure have abilities, but since this one is right on our doorstep I want you to do a preemptive check up to see if we should pursue him as a member of the Avenger's initiative or not."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly do we suspect him capable of?"

Fury turned and gave her a grim look. "He might be anywhere between a 1 and a 10 for all we know."

The Russian spy felt her other eyebrow reflexively join the first. The number scale was invented by Shield to roughly gauge the threat level of an individual in terms of their unusual abilities. Most normal humans were considered a 0, harmless without a weapon. A 1 might be a minor talent, something simple like being able to levitate a small object or sense whether someone was telling the truth or lying. Romanoff knew she was rated somewhere between a 3 and 4 herself, where as someone like the Hulk was put firmly in the 9-10 range. Only a handful made it near the other end of the scale, but the fact that there were those rare few wandering around unchecked in the world was enough to make those in the know rather uncomfortable. Nukes might be scary, but at least they were predictable.

"We speaking hypothetically here or you actually have a reason to slide the scale around him that much?" she asked.

Fury shrugged and collected the file which promptly vanished into a desk drawer. "Let's just say I have my reasons. And you might find him interesting too, for personal reasons."

The former KBG spy felt a moment of apprehension. "I don't do personal."

She tried very hard not to. In her line of business, personal got you killed. Natasha was very interested in staying alive and kicking.

"Well you might consider giving it a try," advised Fury with a bland look. "The one consistent thing we know for sure about this guy is that he can see ghosts."

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. It was not something many people knew about her, but she was not exactly ordinary herself. For as long as she could remember she had been able to see the spirits of dead people. It was the reason she had been originally recruited to the KGB, not only could she speak with the dead, she could often force the truth out of them; truths they had taken to the grave with them. The redhead had hunted down and killed the handlers who knew of her unusual ability when she first left their service. Now the only people left that knew she could see and talk to ghosts were Hawkeye and Fury. It was an ability that came in handy in her line of work, but not something she wanted openly advertised.

But this was a curious thing. She had run into plenty of people who claimed they could see and speak with the dead, spiritualists, priests, voodoo witches and various other scam artists. None of them had actually been able to see them like she could.

"What makes you think he's the real deal?" she finally asked.

"Reading between the lines," Fury replied, being infuriatingly cryptic as usual. "It's your job to prove whether he's the real deal or not."

Natasha blew a stray red bang in her vision. She took the photo of the man she had been assigned to, the only thing Fury hadn't collected back into the folder. The 4x5 colored photo showed a scowling man with hard hazel eyes flecked with gold and garish orange hair of all things.

'Ichigo Kurosaki huh?' she thought. 'This will be interesting.'

 **AN: Yeah I know, really? Starting another story? Well I just started writing and it came to me so… =D**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Kinda just wrote this and double checked it the same day, let me know if there's any glaring mistakes.**

Natasha had been watching Ichigo Kurosaki for a week now and so far he had displayed nothing that indicated he had any unnatural abilities. Her daily reports back to Fury had been relatively sparse. Like most surveillance missions nothing tended to happen until something exploded. In which case the surveillance part of her mission would be over and it was time to put on her ass kicking boots.

Ichigo had proven to be a man of routine. One week probably wasn't enough to establish this as fact, but Romanoff was willing to bet her favorite pair of hand crafted throwing knives that the man had been following the same pattern for years. Someone might deviate from their habits occasionally, but it took iron clad discipline to follow the schedule Dr. Kurosaki did, and he managed to do so practically down to the minute. She would have to note a possible case of OCD in her next report, though it would be minor at best.

Every morning he would wake up exactly at 0500 without the aid of an alarm, head over to the sink and wash up. Downing a simple protein shake of milk, weigh powder, crushed oats and raw egg whites, he would be out the door at 0510 and would spend the rest of the hour jogging at a brisk pace around the block. Returning home at exactly 0600, he would spend the next half hour in the backyard practicing kendo with his wooden sword, performing exactly 500 strikes of each type in machinelike fashion. Breakfast would be made and consumed before 0700, and then he would be out the door again, dressed in a semi casual fashion, usually a suit top matched with dark faded jeans and utilitarian work shoes. It would have been an odd style, but it somehow suited the clinic owner who already stood out due to the shade of his hair.

Arriving at work precisely at 0730, he would park his car in the exact same spot underneath the willow tree despite not having any reservations placed to hold the position and then he would spend the rest of the day working in his health office. Lunch was always takeout brought to him by one of his staff members, the choice of food left up to the individual getting the meal, and dinner was a quiet affair that took place at home after a lazy drive back. After dinner, he would take the trio of newspapers he subscribed to and head on down to a little hole in the wall bar where he would sit with a pint of ale, watching the television, browsing the papers or simply quietly staring off into space in a detached fashion. No one ever joined him despite many giving him greetings.

He would return home at 2300, go to bed and the whole routine would start over again in six hours. His clinic was open seven days a week with the exact same hours, 8 a.m. – 6 p.m., so there was no deviation to his schedule even on weekends. It was like clockwork, both fascinating and utterly boring to observe.

Natasha carefully put on the last touch makeup and leaned back to observe herself in the mirror, the woman in the reflection staring back with an expression of satisfaction.

The apartment Shield had provided for her both as a part of her cover and as a place for her to stay was a cozy little one bedroom thing up on the second floor, comfortable but not exactly luxurious. Certainly the spy had stayed in much worst dives in her time as a field operative so she couldn't complain about her accommodations. A part of her wondered if this was what it felt like to take a vacation. She'd have to ask Clint when she got back, unlike her he actually had been on one on the account that he had a life outside of their work.

She frowned at the odd distracted throught.

This was probably why she was losing her mind barely a week into the mission. Romnaoff was a woman of action. Fury had given her no oversight for the mission, just ordering her to do what was necessary to determine whether or not Kurosaki should be recruited. She decided that after a week of watching, it was time to make contact with the target.

She'd dyed her hair blonde as a part of her cover, her naturally curly red hair straightened out so that they fell like cascading waterfalls down to her shoulder. The dark leather jacket she wore was kept open so that the rather tight red tank top she had underneath allowed her bosom to show enough to entice a peek but not to scream for attention. She had decided to pair the jacket with a pair of worn Levis and thigh high boots. All in all, it was a head turning look that would hopefully ease her transition into Dr. Kurosaki's life.

"Looking hot sweetheart."

The compliment would have been startling in the empty apartment had she not recognized the voice. A familiar hollow pang of sorrow filled her when she turned to face the speaker.

There was a young woman sitting on the couch in the living room, smiling brightly at Natasha. Her name was Angelina Grisha and she didn't look a day older than sixteen. She never would, mainly because she was dead. Natasha would know, after all she had killed her as a part of her initiation after graduating from the Red Room.

"Hello Angelina," the spy said softly as she joined her former comrade in the living room. "It's been a while since I've seen you. I had thought you'd finally moved on."

Now up close, the Shield agent could see that the blonde was in fact slightly transparent. If Natasha stared hard enough, she could make out the pattern of the couch through the ghostly woman's chest.

Angelina smiled sadly at her friend. "Oh Natalie, it's not so simple. We are tied to you in death, we all are."

Natasha looked away. When she first joined Shield, she had told Nick Fury that she wanted to erase some of the red on her ledger; she never told him why she had the sudden change of heart. Most killers didn't suddenly develop a conscious after years in the business, and Natasha was no exception. The only difference between her and others who murdered was that she could see the ghosts of those she killed following her around. No matter how well she was conditioned not to feel anything for her targets, it wasn't easy to forget them when their departed souls were drawn to her like moths to flame.

They weren't always visible, not unless she really concentrated, but at night when she lay awake in bed tormented by memories of her past she could hear them whispering, cursing her, hundreds of raging voices seeking vengeance. It had gotten to her, shaking her away from that cold disconnected place she had been conditioned into. Natasha couldn't bring those people she killed back and she had no other skill that could benefit the world, but she could ensure that the people she killed had more meaning than a simple paycheck.

Angelina was the only one of the ghosts following her that was not angry, perhaps because she too had been an initiate of the Red Room and under other circumstances their positions would be switched. All the girls who were placed in the Red Room program were paired up at the beginning, told by their handlers that the girl they were partnered with were their battle sister, the one they could always trust their life to in a world of deceit and lies.

Then, on the day before they graduated, they were ordered to fight to death. One final test prove that they had truly killed their hearts, to see if they could take the final step to remove the only connection they had left in the world. Most failed, consigning both partners for termination due to failure. Natasha hadn't.

"Crowd's gotten a bit bigger since we last talked," her pseudo sister commented lightly. "Getting hard to find elbow room around you."

Natasha turned to look at her friend, frowning at the reference to those she had killed. It had been almost a year since she had last seen Angelina, a year where her body count had risen by twenty seven. A drop in the ocean compared to the numbers of lives she had ended in the almost two decades since she had first left the Red Room.

"Where did you go?" the spy asked out of curiosity.

The ghosts while tied to her did not explicitly have to stay by her side from what she had observed. They could wander off for periods of time, travel the world unhindered by mortal limitations. But ultimately they would be drawn back to the cause of their death.

"I went to France for a little while," Angelina said with a soft airy smile. "Beautiful place, I think I stood on the Eiffel Tower for a few weeks. So many sunsets. They were so pretty, I couldn't' stop looking at them. Maybe it was months. It's hard to tell time when you're dead, especially when I'm far away from you. I can't seem to focus as well."

Romanoff frowned at the unfocused look in her friend's eyes. Angelina always seemed a little off after being away from her, and it took a while for her to return to normal, but she appeared more disconnected than normal.

"Angel," Natasha said using the old nickname she had given her. "Are you ok?"

Dull eyes seemed to focus as they looked at her as if seeing Natasha clearly for the first time. Gone was the lost and jumbled glint in her sapphires, they burned hot with hate and rage.

"YOU!" the ghost suddenly shrieked, leaping to her feet. "IT WAS YOUR FAULT! YOU KILLED ME! WHY DID YOU GET TO LIVE?! WHY DID I DIE?! YOU! YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

Natasha took an uncertain step back, shaken by the sudden outburst from her dead friend. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, anything. But nothing came out. What could she say against the truth?

The ghost girl's shoulders heaved with exertion, her fingers curled up in twisted claws, reaching out as if she might strangle the living woman before her. Her pale face seemed to peel, the skin flaking away to bleed a milky white substance.

"Angel," Natasha pleaded. "Please Angel, it's me Natalie. Please snap out of it."

A single tear rolled down her cheek as the spy watched the rage filled form of her dead partner. The sight of the lone tear seemed to draw Angelina back from whatever depths she had been trapped in, and the naked animal rage left her eyes.

"I'm sorry Natalie," Angelina said with a confused shake of her head. "I did it again didn't I?"

The spy wanted to reach out and hold her friend, but she knew from experience it would do nothing but chill her flesh to come in contact with a ghost. They were separated by the barriers of life and death.

"No, I'm sorry Angel," Natasha whispered.

The ghost of a girl gave a watery smile, her skin slowly returning to the pale translucent white it normally was. "Well I guess we can both be sorry then. It's getting harder to focus lately, harder to think. Ever since…"

Natasha frowned as she looked at the chain her dead friend was fingering. Every ghost seemed to have one of those chains attached to their chest. She'd never bothered looking too closely at any of the spirits that followed her, but she was fairly certain that Angelina's chain had been much longer than the single fist worth that was now left.

"What happened?" the redhead asked worriedly.

She'd never seen a ghost with such a short chain before.

"I don't know," admitted Angelina hesitantly. "I tried asking some of the others who have been around longer than me, but most either don't know or refuse to talk to me when they see my chain. They all say that I don't have much time left, that I will become one of them soon. I don't know what that means."

It was odd seeing the fear in her dead friend's eyes. One would think that death was the end to all fears, after all what more was there to fear? But it seemed even the dead were bothered by the same uncertainty of not knowing that the living suffered through.

"Angel I…"

But what could Natasha say? There were no words that she had that could comfort the spirit of her friend, she had no more answers than the dead girl before her did. She couldn't even provide physical reassurance.

"It's ok Natalie," the ghost said with a sad smile. "What will happen, will happen. We must all face it in the end. I just thought that death was the end of all uncertainty."

Natasha grimaced as she looked away. Her emotions that she normally kept locked away tight was bubbling to the surface, and with it sharpened the clarity she had in seeing the dead. Already the living room seemed to be filling with faint outlines of ghosts she normally happily ignored.

Angelina must have noticed her discomfort, for she quickly changed the topic.

"So who's the target?" she asked eagerly. "Can I come with you?"

"It's not like I can stop you," Natasha said with a small smile.

Pulling out the image she had of Ichigo Kurosaki, she showed it to her dead friend.

"Oh he's cute," Angelina said with a cluck of her tongue as she leaned forward to examine the photo. "I hope you don't have to kill him, though maybe that would give me someone new to talk to."

"I'm not here to assassinate him," Natasha replied as she briskly began to prepare herself for her upcoming self-imposed mission. "We're just going to have ourselves a friendly little chat."

A swift glance at the clock showed that it was almost 1900. She would have to move quickly if she wanted to arrive at the bar before Kurosaki. He'd be less suspicious of her if she was already present when he came in.

Romanoff frowned as she considered the glossy photo of the scowling man in her hand one more time before pocketing it. Perhaps he might have some answers if Fury's suspicions proved accurate.

 **AN: Probably a bit of deviation from her character, but hey it's fanfiction for a reason right? If I wanted to I can add spongebob into my story =D Though it would be pretty sick if Ichigo showed up in Avengers Infinity Wars…**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Again, wrote it today, double checked it myself during lunch break while choking down a sandwich so if you see anything that makes your inner grammar/spelling Nazi act up, please let me know. Reviews are appreciated, it's nice to know what people think about what I'm putting out there.**

It had been almost twenty minutes since the Russian born spy first sat down at the bar, surreptitiously watching the front door while pretending to be engrossed by the football game being shown on television. In those short twenty minutes, she had no less than six men come up to clumsily try to hit on her, and if her veiled observations of the occupants of the bar were on the spot there were at least two more trying to work up the courage to come make a fool of themselves as well.

The Black Widow fought back an eye roll as she spotted one man down his third glass of beer, glance in her direction, stand up, loosen his collar, lose his nerve and sit back down again. Patches of sweat was slowly making itself visible underneath his armpits, the stain slowly darkening his navy blue dress shirt. Sometimes it sucked to be a woman.

Natasha had to hide a laugh behind her hand every time Angelina would make some comment on one of the idiots trying to pick her up, speculating on everything about their shortcomings in personality, state of distasteful dress and of course their lack of confidence stemming from the probable inferior gear they were packing below the waist. The ghost always had a dry wit and razor sharp tongue when she was alive, death had done little to dull her edge.

At exactly 2030 her target appeared at the entrance with a soft jingle of the doorway bell. Still in his work attire, Ichigo had his customary trio of newspapers underneath his left arm. He approached the barkeep and was handed a pint of ale wordlessly, nodding his thanks at the man manning the booze and heading over to his corner booth. A few heads dipped in his direction in greeting as he passed them and he returned the gestures brusquely.

The spy stayed put at the bar, carefully watching the orange haired man as he sat down and began paging through the daily reports. Jumping down his throat the minute he showed up would have been an amateur's mistake and the Black Widow was an old hand at the spy game. Once Ichigo was nice and comfortable in his environment, she would pounce. Spotting that moment of relaxation was the key.

Romanoff gave it another five minutes during which she had to smile indulgently at Mr. Sweaty's haltering pickup lines before asking the barkeep for two rounds of what Ichigo had ordered. The balding man behind the wooden counter shot her a speculative look, decided it was none of his damn business and handed over her requested order with a mutter of, "Good luck with that one."

The minute Natasha sat down across from Ichigo's chosen spot in the bar with the back facing a wall and an easy view of the entire room she knew he was the real deal. Perhaps it was the way his eyes flickered towards Angelina who had seated herself next to her, or maybe it was the odd vibe she was getting off the man now that she was a hands touch away, but something screamed at her that Ichigo was different from everyone else in the room. It was the same odd feeling that alerted her to when she was dealing with a spirit rather than a living individual.

Putting her own tribulations aside, the spy pushed on.

"Hey there handsome," she said with a sultry smile. "You looked so lonely I thought you could use some company."

Natasha slid one of the pints of ale over to Ichigo, watching as the doctor frowned at her over his newspaper. He seemed to be evaluating her somehow, his dark gold speckled eyes looking at her in a slightly unfocused manner.

"You bring a lot of unwanted company with you woman," he finally said, carefully folding up the news article he had been reading. "I wonder, just how many people have you killed?"

The spy was thrown slightly off by the unexpected accusation. She had had her cover blown before, but never before she got past her first sentence.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, feigning confusion.

"Don't play with me," snorted Ichigo. "No way someone like you can't see the ghosts following you around."

"You can see me?" exclaimed Angelina in shock.

The orange haired clinician spared the girl ghost a glower. "Yes I can missy, and I can also see how damn short your soul chain is too. What the hell have they been doing letting you run around for that long? You're probably days if not hours away from turning."

Both Natasha and Angelina shared an excited look. It seems Ichigo might have the answers they were looking for.

"What happens when her chain disappears?" the spy asked, all pretense of her cover forgotten.

Her mission was to evaluate whether or not Kurosaki warranted recruitment into the Avenger's initiative. While her training dictated she approach the situation in a clandestine manner, Natasha could figure out the answer just as easily if he willing showed her what he was capable of. And if it happened to help Angelina as well she certainly wasn't going to complain.

Ichigo eyed her curiously, as if weighing his words before speaking.

"You really don't know?" he said slowly.

The black widow allowed the silence to answer for her.

"Then perhaps its better that you remain ignorant of the dangers you surround yourself with," the man said with another frown. "Honestly with this many ghosts following you around, I'm surprised none of have turned on you yet. We'll need to perform a soul burial for them quickly before things get ugly."

"A soul burial?" Angelina asked curiosity piqued. "That sounds rather permanent."

Again Ichigo seemed to examine Natasha closely before answering. "When a person dies, their soul departs from their living body, but it does not simply travel to the afterlife on its own. A soul burial must be performed to send the deceased into the next realm, otherwise they end up hanging around tied down to the place or person that caused their deaths, unable to move on."

Angelina and Natasha shared a surprised look. That certainly matched their experience with the dead. But the answer they received opened up avenues to so many more questions.

"Who performs these soul burials?" the spy asked suspiciously. "Millions die every day around the world, you can't have me believe there are actually that many soul janitors running around cleaning up after the dead."

Ichigo frown deepened. "If you don't know the answer to that, then it's best I not enlighten you. They tend to keep themselves out of the business of the living, but when they do stick their noses out it's usually a mess for everyone involved."

The young doctor took the offered ale and drained it in one long pull, carelessly plopping the empty glass down when he was finished.

"Come on," Ichigo said as he pulled his coat on while getting up. "I better send these ghosts of yours packing before trouble finds you."

Natasha numbly got to her feet, following after the enigmatic man, her SHIELD mission temporarily put on hold. She had spent years wondering how long the ghosts of those she killed would haunt her, resigning herself to the answer of probably until she finally bit it. Suddenly she had an answer to the problem no one else could see and she wasn't quite sure what she was feeling.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pensive look on Angelina's face. The ghost looked thoughtful, with a hint of anxiety mixed in if one knew where to look. There was also unmistakable relief in her eyes. Natasha couldn't imagine what it must have been like, stuck in limbo after dying and tied to the world of the living while slowly losing yourself to madness and wondering if that was how you were going to spend the rest of eternity.

"Where are we going?" the faux blonde asked as she followed Ichigo out the door.

"Back to my place," grunted the Japanese immigrant. "I need to get some tools before we go about trying to rid you of your ghost problems."

 **AN: Plot moving along. I'm basing the avengers off the movies, so very little input from comic book universe. Both Avengers and Bleach universe facts are a bastardized collection of hazy recollection plus personal theories and thoughts, so forgive me if it deviates somewhat. We will be moving along with the plot of the first movie once we get the back story out of the way a little, and we might even see some familiar faces along the way.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Just realized I had this story categorized under a language other than English…hehe…whoops. Maybe that explains the low traffic I've been getting lol Please read and review! Again I did write this in one go and went over it once so if there's anything out of place please let me know. I'd love to know what you guys think of this chapter, it was very fun to write!**

Ichigo's home was rather Spartan, for a man who earned as much as he did he had relatively simple tastes. Utility seemed to be the key factor when the decision was made on what made it into the good doctor's home, the only sentimental memento's he had were a few framed photos he kept on the wall of family and loved ones. There was a single katana hanging over the fireplace, the wooden sheath gleaming in the firelight as Ichigo gently stoked the flames.

Natasha watched with arms crossed as he stood up, running a hand almost lovingly along the hilt of the sword, a distant look in his eyes. She knew that kind of look, the far off stare that was watching memory rather than what was actually in front of them.

"Not this time old friend," he whispered softly.

The wooden sheath of the blade gleamed in the firelight, the polish reflecting the soft illumination. Black leather strips crisscrossed the handle of the blade, just below the metal guard, Natasha's keen eyesight picking up the microscopic wear and tear on the material that indicated that this was not an ornamental weapon, it had seen use. Her sense itched the longer she stared at the weapon, as if trying to warn her of some danger her physical eyes could not perceive. One more question to add to the growing list of questions.

As Ichigo began to rummage through drawers muttering to himself, Natasha turned to look at Angelina. The dead blonde held an air of uncertainty about her, the chewing of her lip a tic she had had for as long as Natasha had known her.

"Hey," the spy said gently. "You alright?"

The ghost smiled faintly up at her old friend. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling. According to Ichigo he can send me to the afterlife. I wonder what that will be like there."

The Black Widow paused to consider it. Every religion spoke of some sort of afterlife, humans had been speculating about what came after death for as long as they were capable of comprehending the finality of the end. She herself had never given it much thought, when you were dead your body stopped working and sometimes you popped back up as a ghost to haunt the guy who offed you. Perhaps anyone else who had the gift of seeing the dead might have interpreted it as proof of divine creation, but Natahsa had simply taken it in stride. Ghosts didn't prove there was a hereafter just that death wasn't really the final end most people assumed.

But Ichigo seemed fairly certain there was some sort of afterlife, as if he had seen it himself. It was an odd thought. How could someone alive be so certain that there was something beyond death?

"Alright, finally found it," the man announced as he came down the stairs from his second floor home. "Let's head out into the backyard, I'd rather not open up the gates indoor."

Natasha followed after the orange haired man, not sure exactly what she was expecting. She conjured in her mind some occult ritual involving chalk patterns on the ground and burning candles. The spy had infiltrated a few such groups before in the past. While their arcane ceremonies had been interesting to watch there had been little in terms of the results they had claimed they would have. There was this one time she had been sent gain access to a rogue offshoot scientology branch that were fairly certain they could signal their lord Xenu to come pick them up…well hopefully Kurosaki wouldn't turn out to be a dud.

"So what do we have to do?" she asked as they stepped out of his back porch into the open grass of his backyard.

Ichigo lived slightly off from the suburban housing area so he was afforded more privacy than most, and included with that privacy was a wide open expanse of nature in place of a fenced off backyard. There was a stump of a chopped down tree, an axe buried in the wood along with a large pile of kindling that the doctor had no doubt cut up himself. A self-sufficient man, she'd have to note that in his psychological profile.

"We won't be doing anything," he replied. "I'll be doing the work. You stand there and try not to cause trouble."

Natasha crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to get on with it.

Ichigo raised his hand and the spy caught sight of a flat pentagon pendant of some sort with an image of a grinning skull imprinted onto the side. The orange haired man stared at it for a moment before giving an irritated sigh and raising it up to his ear.

A few seconds passed in silence while he looked bored.

"What is he calling god something?" Angelina joked.

The faux blonde spy snorted at the absurd notion. That seemed beyond stupid. Almost as dumb as the Xenu ritual requiring the participants to place their heads in plastic bags and suffocating themselves.

" _Rukia it's me,"_ Ichigo said in Japanese after a few more moments of silence.

Unbeknownst to him, Natasha could understand him perfectly. Part of her training had been becoming fluent with some of the major languages of powerful countries. The spy could speak in half a dozen tongues as if she were a native and passably understood about twice that number.

An angry woman's voice answered him in nonsensical chatter, the distance making it difficult for the spy to pick up whoever was replying at the other end.

" _Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm sorry I haven't called in a while. Been busy, you know with living and stuff."_

There were brief pauses as the orange haired man rolled his eyes and allowed whoever was at the other end to rant at him.

" _Alright, alright, I promise to keep in touch more often. Hell I'll come visit soon, I promise. Listen, this isn't exactly a social call. I got a problem on my hands right now, don't know what the hell the idiot they assigned to my sector's been doing, but I have a woman with about two or three hundred ghosts tethered to her. I'll be sending them over in a moment. I just don't want 12_ _th_ _division jumping down my throat when I do."_

Natasha filed away the little tidbits of information she had picked up, careful to keep her expression curious and annoyed as befitting of someone who felt excluded because of language barriers. So there was someone who was "assigned" to take care of departed souls, responsible for different sectors. 12th division suggested that there were at least 11 others in existence, the number perhaps indicating a hierarchy in organization. Of course this just raised more questions, just what was this mysterious organization that was responsible for chaperoning the spirts of the departed?

After a few more moments on the odd communication device, Ichigo finally lowered the strange pendant with a scowl of annoyance, muttering to himself in Japanese about bunny loving midgets.

"Alright you lot, form a line and I'm going to send you through one at a time. I don't have all night, so hurry it up."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, concentrating so that she could finally see her ghostly entourage more clearly. There really were hundreds of them, men and women of all ages, even a child or two. They all bore the wounds she had dealt them, some less noticeable than others, but she remembered every face and every death.

For the first time since she could remember, the ghosts were no longer angry, in fact they weren't even really paying her any attention.

"What happens to us?" asked a dark skinned man in a business suit.

Mr. Harriman had been a businessman that had been pushing a bit too hard for his associates to move away from investing in Russian oil fields, Natasha had been tasked by the KGB to terminate him to further the interest of the soviet nation. She had been sixteen at the time, one of her first assignments after graduating from the Red Room.

"You get sent on to the next realm where most of you will lose all memories of your lives as mortals, spend a couple decades living your afterlife before having your souls recycled and rebirthed back into the realm of the living," Ichigo replied in a bored voice.

"What of god?" asked a piously dressed man. "The good book teaches us that our lord and savior shall greet us at the gates of heaven. Will we meet him?"

Father Anderson had been devout Jesuit spreading the teachings of his beliefs in Afghanistan, a brave man who had weathered the hatred of local Islamic zealots to try to bring aid and education to the unfortunate war torn people in the Middle East.

He had been caught in the crossfire when Natasha had been assigned to take down a Taliban leader, grabbed as a human shield to stay her hand. It had done the warlord little good. The good father bore the gut wound that had killed him even as a ghost, his dull brown robes dyed black with blood.

"If there ever was a creator, he or she has no hand in what happens to you when you cross over," Ichigo replied evenly.

"Then there is no heaven?" the Jesuit asked, expression crestfallen. "No deserved reward for a life lived well? Punishment for those who committed sins?"

The last part was said with a glare thrown in Natasha's direction. The father may have been a good man, but boy could he hold a grudge.

"There's no heaven or hell in the sense most religions teach," Ichigo said with a shrug. "Afterlife honestly doesn't seem any better than the living world in my opinion. A rare few of you might be sent to purgatory. Not really hell, just a more miserable place than the afterlife because of sins you have committed. I'm not too sure of the reasoning behind it, but it's all about karmic balance of the universe. Even purgatory isn't permanent, most people will eventually be cycled back out into life again in order to keep the balance."

"Wait so there is a hell?!" shouted one of the ghosts in the crowd.

Anxious whispers broke out amongst the translucent ghosts, many looking uncertain.

"If there is no God, who judges us?!"

"What right do they have to make that decision?!"

"That's not fair!"

The clamor of the ghosts became deafening, all of them demanding answers and throwing questions at the stone faced doctor as he stood there. Confusion and anger was beginning to seep through the crowd, and Natasha had to grit her teeth against the headache that was building up from her spiritual senses flaring up in reaction to the ethereal emotions.

Finally a young boy stepped forward from the crowd to stand before Ichigo. He couldn't have been older than five or six, dressed in stripped pajamas and holding a hand sewn stuffed teddy bear that was missing one of its button eyes.

Natasha looked away from him. His name was James Alduin, son of a political opponent of the Soviet Union. She had been tasked with killing him to silence the opposition, both as a warning to others and punishment to the man who dared stand against the bear. It had been a relatively peaceful death in comparison to the others who had died by her hand, a vial of poison in the boys drink. His death was perhaps the one that haunted her most out of all those she had killed.

He was one of the few ghosts who had never been angry at her, too young to understand why he was trapped the way he was. James occasionally would ask her questions about things he saw that he didn't understand, and Natasha would patiently answer all of them perhaps out of a sense of penitence for taking his life. She even played some of the silly childish games he would invent when he approached her with them.

"Will I get to see my mama and papa again?" the little boy asked softly.

The crowd of specters fell silent as they awaited Ichigo's answer.

Kneeling down the hard faced doctor placed his hands on the transparent child's shoulders, smiling in a surprisingly gentle expression. "I'm sure your mother and father are waiting for you on the other side kiddo."

The boy nodded resolutely. Turning he waved at Natasha. "I'm going to go now lady. Thanks for watching me!"

A hard lump formed in her throat, and the spy suddenly found it difficult to see through the tears forming in her eyes. James Alduin was something she could never forgive herself for, no matter how long or hard she worked to right the wrongs in the world. He had been a reminder of everything wrong in her life yet somehow the thought of losing didn't bring the feelings of relief she thought it would. It hurt.

Ichigo made an odd gesture with his hand and a pair of what looked like Japanese sliding doors appeared in thin air. The thing rice paper ornamented gate looked regal, a silent promise of better things beyond. The ghosts all clamored excitedly when the doorway parted, revealing a soft otherworldly white light.

The orange haired doctor raised the skull pendant in his hand and bumped the device gently against the little boy's head. Gasps broke out as the ghost seemed to dissolve into bright motes of light, his humanoid figure shrinking rapidly. When the transformation was complete, a glistening snow white butterfly could be seen fluttering in the air where James had been.

The transformed ghost circled through the air once, gently finding his way over to Natasha as if saying his goodbye. The spy reached out a hand, allowing the fluttering creature to land gently on her forefinger. Warmth seemed to spread through her body from the point of contact, a filling her with feelings of happiness and forgiveness.

The held back tears finally spilled down her eyes, carving a single tear down her face

"I'm sorry James," she whispered, finally uttering the words she had never been able to say.

The butterfly fluttered its wings once, circled her head lightly teasing her hair before making a beeline for the gate filled with light. There was a blinding flash, and then it was gone.

"Alright, who's next?" Ichigo asked dispassionately. "Form a damn line, no shoving. You'll all get your turn."

"Well I guess this is really goodbye then," Angelina said softly as the ghosts began to form up a cue.

Both former members of the Red Room stood side by side as they watched the doctor efficiently send the ghosts into the afterlife, the line growing as they saw examples of others moving on.

"I'll miss you," Natasha said softly, unable to meet her friend's eyes.

"Me too."

They both watched as another butterfly made its way towards the gates.

"You never told me why you hesitated," the spy abruptly said, unable to hold back the age old question that had bothered her for almost twenty years. "You had me that day. Why didn't you take the shot?"

Angelina smiled. "If you still don't know the answer to that by now, then you'll just have to keep searching. One day you will understand Natalie. I think if you stick by Kurosaki, you might finally figure out my reason."

Natasha opened her mouth to protest the ambiguous response, but was interrupted by screams from the line of ghosts. Her eyes jerked over to where Ichigo was and widened at the sight before her.

Where moment before there had been the serene wooden doorway with the bright light there now stood what could only be described as the gates of hell. The two enormous slabs of ominous rock arches must have been at least four or five stories tall, an obsidian structure carved with loving detail. Two enormous skeleton torsos jutted out from each of side of the doorway, their arms crossed and macabre expressions locked in a silent scream of agony. All around them depicted were the scenes of suffering etched into the unnatural black marbling, images of men and women undergoing unspeakable tortures.

The tanned ghost next to Ichigo had fallen onto his behind, staring up at the monolith structure in horror.

"Wh-wha-what is this?!" he blubbered.

Terrance Mallory had been a man that had been involved with human trafficking in central Africa, specializing in shipping children out for rich pedophiles in western nations to violate in the privacy of their own homes in order to fund his private war against those who opposed the spread of radical Islam in the territory he had installed himself as dictator of. SHIELD had assigned Natasha with dismantling the disgusting network that Terrance had built, and she had felt nothing but satisfaction when she finally put a bullet in his head.

The bland expression on Ichigo's face showed nothing. "Looks like you've been found wanting."

Gray mist hissed out, creeping across the ground as the doorways parted with an ominous creak.

The former human trafficker crawled forward, grabbing onto Ichigo's leg, his face an expression of pure terror. "I didn't know! I was only trying to spread the word of God as ordained by Muhammed himself! I didn't know!"

Natasha found herself frozen as she stared at the scene before her, her breathing short and shallow as the gates opened fully, revealing pitch blackness. A soft tormented groan resonated from the darkness and a single giant red eye opened, glaring out into the world of the living, the bloodshot orb twitching as it looked about as if searching for its victim.

"I didn't know…The Quran…the word of god…I didn't know…" the ghost whispered as he trembled on the ground before the gaze of whatever hellish creature lay beyond in the darkness.

Ichigo carefully separated his leg from the grip of the ghostly hand, straightening the fabric of his pant leg.

"You will find that there is no god on this side or the other," Ichigo stated coldly. "Best luck in your next life friend."

The eye within the gate finally fell still when it fell on the ghostly figure of Mallory. A deep dark chuckle echoed from within, a sinister laugh that promised pain beyond what the mortal mind could comprehend.

The sound seemed to shake the ghost from his stupor. Jolted by terror, he managed to find his feet once more. Natasha could not blame the man for trying to run, if she were in his position she would probably do the same. He didn't get very far.

An enormous clawed hand, disfigured greatly from hundreds of mutilating scars reached out from the darkness, the unnaturally long limb seemingly stretching out forever as it reached for the fleeing ghost. It snatched him up in one fell movement, clutching his entire body in the palm of his hands so that his limbs and head stuck out comically from the cracks of its gnarled fingers.

"I didn't know! ALLAH SAVE ME! I DIDN'T KNOW!"

The screams of the tormented ghosts faded as the hand seizing him retreated into the gloom, finally ending altogether when the gates fell shut. Immediately the stone structure caught fire, the orange haze consuming the black gateway from the bottom up, causing its massive form to shimmer like a mirage.

When at last it was gone, all that remained was silence and the peaceful wooden gateway of the passage to the afterlife. Somehow the comfort of its glowing light no longer seemed as enticing after the nightmarish scene they had all just witnessed.

"You said there was no heaven," Father Anderson spoke woodenly, his expression that of a man who had witnessed something that had broken him from the inside. "But surely we have all just witnessed the entrance to hell."

"I'm not here to debate the state of existence of the next realm," snorted Ichigo in irritation. "Heaven, Hell, Up, Down, whatever you want to label it, none of you are staying here in this realm."

Natasha swallowed thickly at the callous dismissal of the man before her. Perhaps he was so used to the idea of what happened after death that it no longer bothered him, but for her it was not the case. There was no doubt in her mind which gate would await her when it was her turn.

A ruckus broke out as one of the ghosts pushed past the others, attempting to bolt.

Ichigo growled a phrase beneath his breath, jabbing his fingers at the running figure. Three shimmering blades appeared out of thin air and cut into the fleeing ghost's midsection, pinning her arms to her side. She fell to the ground, her feet paralyzed by the weight of whatever it was that was holding her down.

"Please! I didn't know! I would have never done those things if I knew!" begged the woman as she squirmed and tried to escape her bonds.

"None of us knew," snapped Ichigo. "You made your choices just as we all did, it's too damn late for regrets. If you believe in God, make your peace.. All debts are squared in death. Now form up a damn line."

Nobody moved, the ghosts all terrified of what awaited them in judgement. Finally Father Anderson stepped forward, kneeling down before Ichigo, hands clasped around the rosary with a cross he had carried even in death.

"I have lived a good life, I fear not his judgement. I am ready. God be with you young man, for I can sense the weight of your duty pressing heavily on your soul. I will put in a good word for you when I cross over to the other side."

Ichigo simply nodded and pressed the badge against the man's head.

Ultimately more than half the ghosts ended up being dragged through the terrifying gates summoned for those who had performed misdeeds in their lives, some stoically walking forward into the blackness, others dragged kicking a screaming through the gates by the demented hand that reached out for those who tried to run.

Finally there was only Angelina left, smiling softly at Natasha who sniffed and rubbed at her tear streaked face.

"Say your goodbyes," Ichigo said gruffly, showing surprising compassion given his irritable aura through most of the soul burial process.

"I guess this is it Natalie," Angelina said brightly. "Watch your back out there ok? I don't want to be seeing you too soon."

"Angel…I…" The words would not come, no matter how hard Natasha tried to force her mouth to move.

The ghostly figure of her friend reached a translucent finger out and pressed it against her lips, the contact sending a chill through her heated flesh. With a smile and wink, the former Red Room initiate turned and faced Ichigo.

"Will there be sunsets in the afterlife?" she asked.

The man nodded solemnly. "Sunrises too."

Angelina nodded her head in acceptance. Ichigo reached out with his badge, the pendant gleaming in the darkness.

"Wait! Angel I-!"

Natasha's outburst was too late, already her friend was dissolving. Unconsciously she had run forward, hand reaching out, but by the time she was there only a butterfly remained.

The delicate creature fluttered, flitting about before landing on her finger just as James had.

"Goodbye Angelina," Natasha said quietly.

The butterfly seemed to bow then flittered on through the gates.

A heavy feeling weighed on Natasha's stomach as she watched Ichigo vanish the doorway to the afterlife with a sharp gesture. She wiped at the tears on her face, wondering why she felt so empty.

Hard gold splattered eyes found hers, and she knew that the night was not yet over.

"We need to talk."

It was a simple stern statement from the man, no question or request involved. She could deal with that.

 **AN: And I totally didn't tear up while writing parts of this scene *sniff***


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Wrote and edited myself again, so let me know what you think and if there are any mistakes. I've appreciated the reviews (most of them anyways, to the a-hole who responded, you know who you are, I am in fact the bread earner in my family with two jobs that add up to more than 40 hours a week along with being a part time student in a master's program, what dear sir or madam are you doing with your life? Using the same judgement you cast so thoughtlessly on me, probably nothing, and doubtless you never will, so good day.)**

Natasha sighed softly as she swirled the saucer of clear liquor in her hand. The shadowed reflection within the cup's liquid showed a haggard looking woman who had seen and done a bit too much for the night, and really was that such a surprise? She had just received an answer to life's greatest mystery, a question that philosophers and theologians had wrestled with since the dawn of mankind and come away empty handed. Somehow knowing didn't make her feel any better; in fact, it was more unsettling that death would not the end of the guilt that tormented her as she had originally hoped.

Scowling, the Russian born spy knocked back the sake that Ichigo had handed her, reaching out a trembling hand to refill her cup from the bottle he had warmed up for her before dissapearing upstairs. She was currently sitting on one of the four legged stools kept by the kitchen counter space that had been set aside for dining, the polished marble finish of the countertop a solid black speckled with grays and greens. The rest of the kitchen was so neat and clean it looked like one of the models you would find on display out at a storefront. No doubt Ichigo knew exactly where everything was down to the number of forks he had in the drawer. He just seemed like that kind of guy.

The soft echoing thump of footsteps announced Kurosaki's return from the second floor of his home. He had changed out of his work clothes, now clad in a simple dark brown sweater that clashed horribly with his hair along with gray unmarked sweatpants. Fabric strained against smooth rippling muscle as he moved, his constant training of his body apparent with each step he made.

Natasha had her back to the man as he approached giving her time to carefully school her expression into a more neutral appearance before he ended up standing in front of her. Whatever personal turmoil she was going through, the spymaster still had a job to do.

"So," she said slowly, making sure to purposefully keep her eyes slightly unfocused and words slurring a little. "What are we going to talk about?"

The orange haired doctor reached beneath the counter and brought up another cup for himself, filling the saucer from the bottle before answering.

"I ask you a few questions, if you answer me honestly, we both move on with our lives and forget we ever met each other," Ichigo grunted as he took an experimental sip, frowning at the cooled sake.

"And if I don't answer you honestly?" Natasha daringly asked as she rested her head on one hand with an uncaring countenance

The clinician tossed back his drink with a jerk of his head, slamming the cup down with enough force to crack the ceramic bottom. The spy had to fight back a reflexive flinch at the hard unyielding eyes that stared her down. They say eyes were the window to the soul, it was nearly impossible to meet another human's gaze without sharing some understanding through empathy.

The golden eyes streaked with pitch blackness were inhuman, not a hint of compassion to be found within. They were not the eyes of a fellow human, but more those of a predator assessing on how best to catch and eat a prey.

"Then I kill you, send you on to the next world and move on with my life and forget that I ever met you," he bit out with a growl. "It's up to you how you want this story to end, either way it's not going to my problem for much longer."

It wasn't the first time someone had threatened her life, and certainly wouldn't be the last considering her line of work. That said, something about the certainty in Ichigo's voice made her pause. He wasn't a man prone to making idle threats, she could sense it. He really would attempt to kill her if she proved to be uncooperative. Given what Natasha had seen him do tonight, she wasn't all that certain she could take him if it came down to it.

Her hands itched for the pistols in their hidden holsters in her jacket, but she fought down the reflexive urge to draw them. Her gut told her it wouldn't do her any good.

"The people I work for know I'm here," she responded flatly. "I don't check in and they'll have you locked up so fast you won't even have time to wonder where they came from."

Ichigo barked a laugh, leaning forward on the counter, palms face down in a rather aggressive stance that raised the hair on the back of her neck. "Lady, whatever organization you work for, let me assure you that the one I can call on is bigger and better. You think death is some peaceful transition between here and the afterlife? You'd be surprised how ugly it can get when a ghost decides it doesn't want to be docile; they clean up messes all around the world so that the living can remain blissfully ignorant."

He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out an odd cheap looking duck headed candy dispenser. Natasha felt her left eyebrow climb at the strange blue device.

The orange haired man chuckled at her skeptical expression. "Yeah it doesn't look like much, but this here's the secret to how the world remains happily unaware of the spirits that hang out all around them. I click this once and you won't remember a damn thing about what happened tonight. Your brain will simply fill it in with some made up memory. Hell, if I want to I could erase weeks, months, even years of memory if necessary."

The faux blonde's mouth felt dry at the implication of what he was capable of if what he was claiming was true. It was a scary thought. He wouldn't even have to kill her, he could just erase who Natasha Romanoff was with a press of a button.

"Whatever the people you're working for is capable of, I can erase in a matter of seconds," he quietly said. "I could hunt them down, erase their memories of you so that they have no clue who you even are."

His thumb circled the head of the duck that suddenly looked a lot more ominous to Natasha than it had before.

"So work with me here," Ichigo implored. "I'm not an evil man, but I'll do what's necessary to keep the peace, even if that means I have to kill a woman I don't know."

Romanoff sighed, too tired to continue playing the game. Ichigo was meant to be a possible recruit for the Avenger's initiative. She had been given authority to reveal as much of SHIELD as she thought was necessary in the process of recruiting him should all things go well. She'd just have to take a gamble on her judgement of his character.

Natasha blew a gold bang out of her eyes. "Alright, I'll play ball. What do you want to know?"

Ichigo put away the memory altering device, pulling back from where he had been towering over her. "Let's start with your name and who you're working for."

"Natasha Romanoff. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

His eyebrow shot up. "That's a mouthful. What do you guys do?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at the expected response at SHIELD's full name. Personally she thought the guy who came up with that acronym needed to be slapped. "We're an internationally funded group tasked with monitoring unnatural catastrophic events around the world. Prevention is the key goal of my organization, failing that, containment to minimize casualties and prevent the spread of panic."

Ichigo chuckled. "Not doing a very good job are you? There was that green radioactive monster down in Chicago a while back, and then Tony Stark tearing up his city as the Iron Man a couple of weeks ago and god knows what else that didn't make the front page."

Natasha frowned at the doctor's crack at events that had cost thousands of lives.

"Those are exactly the reason why SHIELD exists. More and more we are seeing situation arise that conventional weapons and personal simply cannot deal with. The world is moving in a direction that may very well soon be outside the control of mankind. Speaking of which, if the people you work with are omnipotent enough be able to chaperone the souls of all the people that die, why didn't they do anything to help?"

The scowl returned to Ichigo's face. "One, they're not my people, I just happened to work with them once upon a time. Two, they deal with only the dead and spiritual side of things, so as far as they're concerned it was the business of the living when a green rage monster goes rampaging through a city. Three, they did happen to do something about it, just not anything the living could appreciate."

Sensing the tenseness in the man across from her, the spy eased up on her accusations. No point angering the man that could possibly erase her existence from memory.

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. No doubt the thought of an organization like SHIELD knowing about him irked the man something fierce.

"Alright, so let's talk about you then," he said when he opened his eyes again.

"Me?" Natasha asked with a quirk of her lips. "You're not curious at all why SHIELD had me investigating you?"

"I don't give a rat's ass one way or another. When you get back to your boss, tell whoever they are that I'm not interested in what they're trying to sell me and they better leave me alone if they want to keep the memories in their head intact. It's you I'm more concerned about right now."

The spy shrugged willing to accept the man's answer for now. "Ask away."

"How long have you been able to see ghosts?"

"As long as I could remember," Natasha replied slowly, her face scrunched up as she thought about it. "When I was a child I had trouble distinguishing the living from the dead, but as I got older I learned to sense the difference."

Ichigo frowned. "So it's a natural ability then? Not something that was created through experimentation?"

The spy shook her head. "As far as I know, no. Very few people believed me, and not until I could pull information out of thin air that I shouldn't have had access to. Of course once they realized what I could do…"

The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose again, the exasperation evident in his face. "How many people know about your spiritual gift?"

Natasha shrugged. "Only two left in the world as far as I know, everyone else is dead, I made sure of it."

Ichigo sighed heavily, massaging his temples. "And these two that know, can they be trusted to keep their mouths shut?"

"They have so far," she replied evenly. "They're good people, they won't oust me and even if they did it's not like they can really prove it."

The doctor nodded slowly. "I'll take your word for it. One more question before I let you go. Have you ever seen anything besides ghosts?"

Natasha blinked at the strange question. "Not that I know of. Is there something I should be aware of?"

Ichigo gave her a thoughtful look.

"I don't think it's something that you need to be bothered with," he finally said. "If you haven't run into them by now then something must be protecting you from them, so best not to worry too much about it."

The spy frowned at the cryptic reply. "I'll let that slide even if the logic doesn't fly with me too well. Now it's my turn for questions."

Ichigo frowned but didn't say anything to stop her, so she plowed on.

"What exactly are we? Why can we see ghosts while other people can't?"

"All living things contain spiritual energy, or _reiatsu_ as we call it in Japanese," Ichigo explained. "When they die, all that remains is their reiatsu. In fact most spiritual beings are made up entirely of reiatsu. People like you or I have a higher amount of reiatsu than most regular folks and as such we are more capable of perceiving beings made of reiatsu."

"You did something to that ghost," Natasha said slowly. "When it tried to run away, you somehow trapped it."

Ichigo nodded. "If you have enough reiatsu there are way to apply it."

"Can I learn to do that?" she asked carefully. "Would it affect the living?"

He no doubt had more tricks up his sleeve regarding reiatsu manipulation. If it was capable of affecting the living, then it certainly might give her an edge in her work if she could learn it.

"If you have enough reiatsu you might be capable of using the demon arts," Ichigo replied with a frown, dodging her question about whether what he had done to the ghost would work on a living person. "Don't look at me though, I'm not going to teach you anything."

"And why not?" Natasha asked with a cute pout, making sure to expose her cleavage as much as possible.

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Put them away, I've seen plenty bigger and better."

The Russian scowled and backed off. "Seriously though, why not?"

"I'm hardly what you would call a master at it. Sure I've picked up one or two of the more useful spells, but I never had any official training. There's a form and flow to the art, but I just brute force my way through them. My methods wouldn't work for someone like you."

"Well is there anything I can do?" Natasha demanded in frustration.

"You no doubt already passively use your abilities without knowing so," Ichigo answered with a shrug. "I don't think I'd be wrong in assuming that you have an almost superhuman ability at detecting the presence of other people in comparison to your other spy colleagues?"

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. There were very few people who could sneak up on her, something that Clint had always joked was her super powers which was why she was one point higher than him on SHIELDS threat assessment scale. She'd never given it much thought, she'd simply assumed like everyone else it was a side effect of having been raised in a paranoid environment that had punished inattentiveness.

"Like I told you earlier, all living things have spiritual energy. You're no doubt subconsciously picking up on them whenever people near you."

The spy frowned. "So it's just something I naturally do? Because I sure as hell don't every try to do it."

Ichigo sniggered. "I suppose a demonstration wouldn't hurt."

He reached a hand out in front of him as if fishing for something. For a moment, Natasha couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Focusing her senses as she did when trying to see a ghost more clearly, she noticed an odd white cloth fluttering in his hand. She narrowed her eyes at the almost invisible fabric.

"What-?"

Suddenly as if in response to her unspoken question hundreds of the ghostly strips of fabric seemed to flutter into existence, flooding the room with strips of white translucent cloth. Natasha almost fell out of her seat in shock, her eyes darting rapidly about trying to track them all.

"What are they?" she whispered after realizing they weren't a threat.

"They're the spiritual reiatsu of the people around us," Ichigo replied. "I pulled them towards me so it would be easier for you to see. They might all look the same at first, but they're actually unique to each individual."

He thrust the ribbon he held in his hand towards her, and she hesitantly took it. Immediately the image of an elderly Chinese woman popped into her mind, as clear as if it had been a photograph from one of Fury's dossiers. As Natasha held onto the strip of cloth, she got a sense of tiredness and worry, the emotions foreign to her own.

Dropping the cloth she couldn't help but notice that the one she had been touching now felt different from the other strips floating about in the room. Natasha couldn't explain exactly what it was, because it sure looked the same to her eyes, but she was able to identify that single ribbon of the Chinese woman no matter where it was.

"Once you've touched someone's reiatsu, you will always be able to recognize it," Ichigo explained. "You don't normally see all this, but you're probably unconsciously picking up on them when they're near you."

He reached a hand out and snatched a ribbon out of the air and Natasha felt a jolt down her spine. Tracing the path of the cloth, she noted with some surprise that it was in fact attached to herself. A frown marred her face when she realized what he had just done. Now Ichigo would be able to track her if she was near him.

"I don't see a ribbon coming from you," Natasha noted.

"You can learn to suppress your reiatsu so others can't sense you."

Dropping her strand of ribbon, Ichigo waved his hand once as if clearing the air and the other reiatsu strips vanished, leaving the room normal once more.

"No doubt there's still more to you, but if you're not aware of what you're capable of then that's something you'll have to try to discover in your own time," he said. "Finish your drink."

"But I'm not done with my questions!" she protested.

"Too bad," snorted the orange haired doctor. "I'm done answering them."

"Are you going to erase my memories?" Natasha asked brazenly as she downed the last of the sake.

She knew that if he was there probably wasn't much she could do to stop him, superspy training or not.

"Not tonight," Ichigo said as he walked her to the door. "You give me reason to believe I need to… well it's not like you would know if I do. So stay out of trouble. If you see something unusual from the spirit side of things, do yourself a favor and steer clear of it."

"Just like that?" Natasha asked as she stood at the steps of his doorway, arms crossed.

"Just like that," Ichigo said firmly.

The spy watched in bemusement as he shut the door in her face. Ichigo Kurosaki was an interesting man, and she'd learned a bit about herself tonight because of him. He might think it was over, but it most certainly was not.

 **AN: Chugging along…chugging along…help me keep chugging by sharing your thoughts on my writing…**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Oh wow, I didn't check on my story for like 1 day and the reviews like blew up O.o You guys are friggin awesome, if reviews were the equivalent to company stocks, this story's shareholder value just grew by 100% within a 24 hour period. Suck on that Google.**

 **There were so many questions and reviews that I'm sorry to say that I don't have the time to give out individual responses, so I'll try to quickly summarize some repeated themes I saw without giving too much away.**

 **Yes, this will carry up to the 1** **st** **Avengers movie, but whether Ichigo "joins" them or not is something I'm willing to reveal yet (love them twists)**

 **This is not a Natasha/Ichigo pairing story, though Ichigo does have a relationship that will be touched upon but is not a main driving point of this fiction. And no it is not with another male character, though who it is you will have to wait to find out in maybe 2-3 chapters after this one?**

 **I can't say much on how Ichigo will rate against the Hulk or Thor, mainly because it's a part of the plot point that I have in mind, so just keep reading folks! I've written enough rough draft to at least get that far lol**

 **I'm putting this up during my hour long dinner break, so again it was a write up with only me doing the editing so I appreciate any corrections being pointed out to me that need to be fixed. And of as always, I love hearing back from the reader on what they think of my writing (be it good or bad), their personal speculations and anything else they want to dump on me, so keep those lovely responses coming! It's writing fuel!**

Natasha was painfully aware that Fury was watching her with suspicion. As the leader of a clandestine intelligence agency, a certain level of paranoia was to be expected, but unfortunately the director had an annoying tendency to be very accurate in what he suspected. Judging by the way his single eye was glaring imperiously at her from behind his steepled fingers, he wasn't buying her report.

"And you are certain that Mr. Kurosaki will be of no use to the Avengers Initiative?" he finally asked after a long nerve wracking silence.

That man could cause a wall to sweat with the way his one eye seemed to bore into whatever he chose to stare at.

The spy kept up her bored expression, carefully schooling her features to hide her true feelings on the matter. She'd relayed to Fury about how Ichigo had "exorcised" the ghosts following her about, not going into too much detail about the gates and the actual transformation process she had witnessed. The tidbit about her own potential dormant spiritual talents was also kept out of her report, no sense broadcasting the possibility when even she wasn't sure she'd be able to do anything with them.

"His ability strictly deals with the spirit realm, unless we have a haunting at HQ there is nothing he can offer us that would be remotely useful in terms of a worldwide threat," she responded indifferently.

The spy had also decided to keep silent about what she suspected to be a group of individuals tasked with ferrying souls to the afterlife. According to Ichigo, they had no interests in the living, and Fury would probably have a meltdown if he had inkling as to what she had learned. The thing about spy agencies was that they couldn't stand the thought of another organization operating on the same scale being in existence. Spies don't play nice with one another.

After another long considering pause, Fury finally nodded his acceptance.

"Very well, I'll defer to your judgement in this instance," the director said. "We'll file Mr. Kurosaki under special circumstances and pull him for consultation if needed."

"You never did tell me how it was you got your hands on the intel about this guy. The stuff he deals with isn't exactly something that can be caught on cctv cameras."

Natasha asked the question casually, cautiously shaking the tree to see what might fall out. Fury tended to play his cards close to his chest, revealing things only when he thought absolutely necessary. If he had contacts with someone that had reiatsu based abilities, she might have another avenue to investigate about her own latent powers.

"Old intel dating from more than a decade back," the dark skinned director replied with a shrug. "Only reason I decided to follow up on them was because of how consistent they were. It all stopped when he moved away from his home, so whatever it was, it seems to have been a local issue."

"What were they about?" she questioned, unable to hold back her interest.

Fury leaned back in his seat, tapping a finger on the tabletop. It was a nondescript desk, one you might find in a hundred offices all over the world. There wasn't single piece of decoration that hinted at the personality of the man working behind it each day, the only ornament being a single old fashion landline phone that was purely for show.

"Weird spooky stuff," he finally conceded. "People being hurt, even killed with no evidence of who or what it was that had harmed them. Unexplained environmental damage that often resembled what appeared to be claw marks. Never any forensic evidence despite the scale of the destruction. There were even multiple reports of his hometown Karakura vanishing into thin air. It was largely dismissed as a hoax after investigators went and found the town and its people perfectly fine, but there was a seven hour delay between the first reporting and the initial investigation. Enough time for something to have happened."

The spy shivered, recalling her conversation with Ichigo the night before.

" _You'd be surprised how ugly it can get when a ghost decides it doesn't want to be docile."_

Fury sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Are you certain that there was nothing he revealed that might shed light on these events?"

"Not that I can think of," she lied.

" _If you see something unusual from the spirit side of things, do yourself a favor and steer clear of it."_

"Alright then, let's talk about your next assignment Romanoff."

Natasha allowed herself to relax a little as they moved on to another topic. Honestly she didn't know why she had decided to keep what she had learned a secret. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of what she had witnessed. What good was it letting others know what awaited them in death? It's not like they would be able to confirm it, not until they were dead. It would change nothing.

A part of her felt like the afterlife was a separate entity on its own, a realm away from the living that only those few touched by the ability to see it should deal with.

Perhaps it was hubris to think herself apart from the others because of that, but she felt a connection to Ichigo unlike with any other person. Maybe it was just that they were both so different from the rest of society. Whatever it was, it made her hesitate to be absolutely candid with her boss, and Natasha listened to her gut.

Fury might have closed the case on the enigmatic doctor, but the spy still had plenty of questions she wanted answers to. And what Natasha wanted, she always got.

"So when do you need this info by?" she asked as they wrapped up the briefing.

Her next mission was a relatively simple one. Head out to the sticks up somewhere in Arkansas and try to scare a few hillbillies into talking about a possible clandestine antigovernment militia that had been dabbling in arcane rituals. Right up her ally.

"I already have assets in place," Fury grunted, leaning back in his seat. "They've been working their way into the group for months now. You'll be playing the part of the wealthy mercenary backer who wants to see proof that their group has a chance at successfully overthrowing the United States government before investing the resources they're asking for. The meeting is slated to take place a month from now, but until then, you've been authorized for paid leave."

Startled the Black Widow found herself unsure how to respond at the unexpected announcement.

"I'm sorry, I thought I heard you wrong," she said. "Could you repeat that last part?"

Fury glared back at her. "You've been put on a month long vacation Romanoff."

"What?" she spluttered. "Why? If we've got a month before sending me off to Arkansas I'm sure there are other missions I could be useful on!"

"Natasha, I don't need a psych degree to see how much your last mission has shaken you," snapped Fury.

Leaning forward he rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, inspecting the Russian spy with concern in his eyes.

"You've been working nonstop since you first joined up with SHIELD Romanoff, take some time off. Go to the beach, go hiking, hell, go get laid! I don't care. I need your head screwed on straight when you get back here, do you understand me? World's about to get a whole lot messier if I'm reading the signs right. I can't have one of my best agents with her head in the clouds when she's out in the field."

"If things are getting worst then I should be out there helping stabilize it!"

The director snorted, barking a short laugh at the upset woman seated across from him.

"You are not the only asset I have out in the field Natasha. I've got Barton and Coulson looking into a possible first contact out in New Mexico. Hill's off in South Africa investigating a report of a miracle healer woman. I could name a hundred other places I've got agents poking and prodding for answers. Throwing you out there as you are will do more harm than good right now, so take the damn vacation. I'll make it a direct order if I have to!"

Natasha argued the point for a few more minutes before caving in. There was no changing the Fury's mind once it was set. She was going on a month long vacation. But maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. She still had a lot of unanswered questions, and she knew exactly where the man with the answers lived.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she left Fury's office, the few base personal that witnessed the unusual sight hurriedly moving away in fear for their health.

Focusing her eyes, she ignored the throbbing ache at her temple. Slowly the thin strands that represented people's reiatsu signature appeared before her, swirling in the air gently as they trailed behind the people that scurried about. Natasha fought back the urge to grin with childish glee, reaching a hand out to grab a passing strand.

Again, a flashed impression of the person came to mind, turning the spirit ribbon into a unique strand different from the dozens of others she could sense. Their emotions invaded her mind as she held onto the connection, brief flashes of their personality springing forth in her mind's eye.

Curious, she turned to stare into the director's office. Natasha frowned when she didn't see anything. Was she perhaps not concentrating hard enough to see through walls? Focusing her senses, the Russian glared at the doorway, ignoring the hundreds of other spirit ribbons that had slowly begun to creep towards her from all over the underground facility.

She was finally forced to stop when she felt something wet trickle from her nose. Natasha grimaced when her hand pulled away from her face dyed red with blood. There had been nothing coming from director's office, and she knew for a fact that he was still in there. She could hear his muffled voice talking through the hidden communication panel behind his desk.

" _You can learn to suppress your reiatsu so others can't sense you."_

Romanoff turned on her heel with a scowl. Let Fury keep his secrets, she would find out the answers for herself.

 **AN: Ok so I know probably some people will complain that this is a "filler" chapter, but there are points here that do relate to the plot later down the line that I have pictured in my head. Hope you guys enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. We'll be running into a familiar face in the next chapter! Or should I say, Natasha will… =D**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: So a lot of people commented that my chapters were shorter than they liked, so I decided to give it a shot and go for a longer update. Originally this had been written as two separate chapters, but they meshed well enough together that I could make it one big chapter. That said, I quickly realized why I hate writing big clunky chapters like this, it's a pain in the butt to edit! We'll see if I'll continue with this format or not, but in the meantime please read and let me know what you think. As usual, I wrote this and double checked it myself so I appreciate having any errors pointed out to me. Cheers!**

Romanoff tracked her target through the heavy set of binoculars she had pressed up against her eyes, watching as he moved in and out of view as he worked in his clinic. Fury had been kind enough to grant her full access to SHIELD resources during her time off so she was armed with her preferred field kit when out on a reconnaissance mission. His orders had been strictly to get her head "screwed on straight", but he'd left the methods up to her.

The director hadn't asked any questions when Natasha had put in a requisition for her normal recon package, simply narrowed his eyes before signing it off and gruffly telling her to have a good time.

And that was why she was currently staked out on the building across the doctor's office that Ichigo owned. The spy had hoped that the distance would mean that he couldn't sense her reiatsu, but if he had he certainly wasn't showing any signs that he'd taken notice. Something about the orange haired man tickled her curiosity, and she simply hated not knowing. Probably what made her such a good spy.

"You know, if you're going to stalk Kurosaki you should at least learn to hide your spiritual energy better."

The Black Widow stilled at the unexpected interruption to her snooping. In an instant she whirled around, a pistol in each hand, the business end of both weapons pointed at the head of the man standing almost directly behind her.

He was relatively tall, especially considering his Japanese looking features. Clad in a handsome suit of pure white, the only thing that wasn't a delicate light cream color was his dark Italian shoes, the Gucci frames of his glasses and the odd silver five pointed star shaped pendants at his wrists. A scowl seemed to have been etched permanently onto a pale face that spent far too much time indoors, his eyes flat without emotion despite having the barrel of two handguns aimed inches from his skull.

"How rude," he sniffed, pushing his glasses up his nose with a gloved hand. "I heard you Americans tended to be a bit gun happy, but I didn't realize that pointing one at someone's head was a socially accepted form of greeting."

"Who are you?" the redhead demanded harshly. "What are you?"

Natasha could count on one hand the number people who had managed to sneak up on her, and most of them were dead. For this man to be able to get so close without her taking notice, there was no question in her mind that he wasn't a normal human.

He shot her a dirty look, brushing off invisible lint from his meticulously clean suit. "Ishida, Uryuu, though I suppose in America you would call me Uryuu Ishida. Now it is only polite to introduce yourself yes? Especially since you are spying on Kurosaki of all people."

Hesitating for a moment, the spy decided to show some trust. She wasn't sure exactly what he was capable of, no sense aggravating him when it wouldn't get her anywhere. Plus, it would be easier to get the drop on him if his guard was down.

Putting the safeties back on, she holstered both guns in one smooth practiced motion. She allowed her arms to fold across her chest, lips tightening as she pondered how much she should reveal.

"Sarah Parker," Natasha lied, the cover name rolling easily off her tongue. "I'm with an organization that is interested in people with supernatural abilities. Ichigo Kurosaki is one such individual we are currently investigating."

The sallow faced Japanese man leaned forward to peer at her over the rim of his glasses, frowning as if he were examining something only he could see. Whatever it was he saw caused him to pull back with a disapproving cluck of his tongue.

"Well I suppose it's fitting that they send someone like you to try to keep an eye on that dunce. No clue what they expect someone of your level to do against a monster like Kurosaki though. He may not be a Shinigami anymore, but he'd still flatten someone like you in a heartbeat."

Natasha blinked at the peculiar reference to the Japanese death god, wondering if she had heard correctly. "You said he was a Shinigami? As in past tense?"

Dark eyes narrowed behind expensive frames. "You didn't know? Then perhaps I have said too much."

The Black Widow rubbed the inside of her teeth with her tongue, wondering how best to fish more information about Ichigo out of this mysterious newcomer. It was a little too late to try to play off his words as if she knew what he was talking about; he already suspected that she had no clue, which was actually the case. Perhaps honesty was the best way to go in this instance.

"What exactly do you mean that he was a Shinigami? You are referring to the Japanese word for death god. That's a rather odd moniker to give to a man, unless you mean he has killed so many people that he's practically a death god. And your words indicate that there is more than one of these Shinigami running around. What exactly are they?"

A slight smirk tugged on the man's lips, his head dipping in a show of respect for her rapid deduction. "If you are not aware of the world he once operated in, then there is nothing more for me to say. Children should not play with fire, especially if they are not even aware of the existence of the dangers associated with the flames."

They spy's eyes hardened. "My job is to keep our world safe. If there are dangers I am unaware of, people will die."

Uryuu snorted. "Death comes for all of us; it is the cycle of life. With no end, there can be no beginning. Do not be so arrogant as to think you are the sole guardian of the living. There are things well beyond your limited scope of understanding."

"Then help me understand," she implored. "I know there is something different about Ichigo. It's not just our ability to see ghosts is it? There is something more to him than that."

The dark haired man snorted. "I don't have the time or the patience to explain it to someone who doesn't even have the faintest clue of what's out there. If you want answers, stop watching Ichigo and go talk to him. I'm sure the dunce would be more than happy to answer your questions."

"Are you a Shinigami?" Natasha boldly asked, hoping to throw him off with the abrupt change in topic.

The scandalous look on his face answered that question before he even spoke.

"Me? A Shinigami?" Ishida sneered in disgust at the idea. "I'll forgive you this once given how ignorant you are on the matter, but please in the future, don't go about throwing such accusations. Others might feel compelled to kill you for such a grave insult."

Her eyes narrowed at his response. "Yet I get the feeling that you and Ichigo move in the same circles."

The strange man's expression became more neutral, his back straightening as he gave her a searching look before replying.

"Our paths crossed when we were younger," he allowed, "but that was a long time ago. The only circle he and I tread together now are that of the medical profession. Now if you'll excuse me, I have my own schedule to keep. Good day Ms. Parker."

Right before her eyes, Uryuu seemed to blur and vanish into thin air. Whirling around, Natasha scanned the rooftop anxiously, but could not spot him. Only when she turned to glanceat the clinic again did she catch sight of the white clad man stepping through the automatic doorway. Her eyes narrowed again as she watched him vanish into the building. The mystery just got deeper.

 **\\******* ! ******* SCENE BREAK ******* ! *******\**

Ichigo typed away at the keyboard, rapidly inputting the patient info that he had filled out on the clipboard for future reference. Mr. Reeder was not the healthiest man he had ever seen, and he certainly had the habits that raised red flags to any halfway decent clinician. He would be back, although a visit to the morgue wasn't too far off in his future if his cholesterol levels were any indications.

" _I'm sure you've noticed your stalker across the roof_."

The former Shinigami didn't bother to turn around at the voice of his long time Quincy ally and friend. Ishida would periodically show up to talk shop, they did both happen to work in the same field. Despite their privately owned practices being separated by an ocean, occasionally their interests would coincide.

" _What do you think of her_?" Ichigo asked as he continued pounding the keyboard, his eyes kept firmly on the screen while his fingers danced.

" _Pretty cute. Very feisty. You ask her out yet? I'm sure she probably wouldn't mind_."

The orange haired man rolled his eyes. " _Yeah, that's exactly what I was talking about_."

Ichigo finally turned to look at his old friend. Ishida had barely changed over the years, still perpetually frowning, the same stupid haircut leaving the front long and the back short and an unhealthy fixation on the color white. He was always dressing in the most snobbish manner possible, another thing that had remained the same although the cost of his wardrobe continued to climb each time they saw each other.

" _Her spiritual energy is quite high for a normal human_ ," the Quincy said with a frown. " _High enough that I'm surprised she hasn't drawn any unwanted attention to herself up until now. I wonder how that's possible."_

" _My thoughts exactly_ ," Ichigo grunted. " _Something's up with her_."

" _It's not your problem Ichigo_ ," Ishida said quietly. " _Just leave it be_."

The retired Shinigami rubbed his jaw with a sigh. He knew that his friend was right. Ichigo had left that life behind when he handed over his official resignation to the presiding captain of the first division, determined to lead a more normal existence. He really ought to leave it well enough alone.

" _What did you want Ishida_?" he finally asked.

The Quincy snorted at the abrupt change in topic, sensing his friend's attempt to ignore the problem. " _That hero complex of yours will get you knee deep in trouble Kurosaki. Whatever, just keep me out of it this time. I don't need to be dragged into another war because you felt the need to rescue someone. Again. It's about the conference two months from now, will you be going?_ "

The two men quickly left the supernatural topic behind, falling into discussion about their work. Unbeknownst to the two of them, a certain spider watching them across the street was quite adept at reading lips, and despite them speaking in Japanese had been more than capable of picking up their words.

 **\\******* ! ******* SCENE BREAK ******* ! *******\**

Natasha plopped the two beers down on the table, seating herself without invitation.

"I met your friend," she said without preamble. The spy noted with amusement the curious and envious looks Ichigo was receiving from the other men in the bar. Males really were simple creatures, rarely looking beyond the rewards of food, sleep and sex.

"You'll have to forgive Ishida, he's a bit of a prick," Ichigo said, not taking his eyes off the football game being played on the screen behind the bar.

"He said some pretty interesting stuff," Natasha continued, stealing some garlic fries from the basket in front of him, melting at the buttery tang and texture assaulting her taste buds. "Shouldn't a doctor be more health conscious? These cannot be good for your arteries."

"Death comes for all of us; it is the cycle of life," Ichigo replied mechanically, unknowingly echoing his friend.

The spy frowned. It couldn't be a coincidence, that wasn't something someone just said off the top of their head. They were both referring to something.

"He said you were a Shinigami. Are you really a living death god?"

Ichigo finally tore his attention away from the game, turning to peer at her as one might look at a bug that started spouting flowery poetry. She noted the odd gold and black slowly creeping into his iris, shivering at how inhuman it made him look.

"That was another life," he said firmly. "I'd rather not talk about it if it's all the same to you."

Natasha nodded, knowing that pushing wouldn't get her anywhere with the tight lipped man. The spy took another garlic fry, circling her lips with the tip of the snack and watching for Ichigo's reaction. Not even a twitch, damn, he was good.

"Can I ask you another question?"

"You already did."

His attention drifted back to the game.

"Are there a lot of people like us?"

"Asshole move," Ichigo grumbled at the blatant foul being replayed on screen as a player grabbed his opponents jersey. "And to answer your question, no, there are very few in the world that has what you have, and perhaps for the better. The afterlife is not as peaceful as most would like to believe."

They continued watching the football match being broadcast on screen, Natasha innocently tossing out questions to try to wrangle answers from him while he steadfastly sidestepped them with cryptic replies. They spent another hour at the bar playing that game, sipping ale and polishing off another basket of fries.

"Walk me home?" Natasha asked as the barkeep announced closing time.

It wasn't actually her home of course, just the same apartment that SHIELD had set up for her when she had first been assigned the task of evaluating Ichigo. She still had access to the key, and luckily the cozy room was still vacated. Hopefully the walk there would give her a chance to squeeze a little more info out of the man.

Oddly enough, the spy found that she had rather enjoyed the semi casual cat and mouse interrogation they had gone through. It was almost fun when no dire world ending threat hung over her head for failure, simply a challenge to see if she was skilled enough to get what she wanted.

Ichigo grunted noncommittally, but allowed himself to be dragged out the door when she circled her arm around his. The night air was crisp and clear, the creeping chill hinting at the rapid oncoming seasonal change New York was long overdue for.

"The moon's beautiful tonight," she commented idly as they kept a gentle pace, neither hurrying nor dawdling.

And indeed it was. The pale white orb hung in the sky in all its otherworldly glory. Full moons always left her in an odd state of melancholy for as long as she could remember. It was something so far back in her memory that she couldn't actually recall why it was or perhaps it was something she had unconsciously repressed. It was one of those odd quirks about herself that Natasha hadn't shared with very many people.

"My mother died on a night like this," Ichigo murmured quietly.

The unexpected admission seemed a bit morbid, but she kept her peace, hoping he would say more on the topic. They continued at a sedate pace, watching the stars glint in the heavens.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she carefully said when he did not continue. "Do you mind if I ask how she passed away?"

There was a long pause. Natasha watched as Ichigo struggled with something internally, the conflict evident on his face. At last he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, he froze, head snapping around to stare off into the distance.

Natasha knew something was wrong the minute she felt Ichigo lock down, his body dropping from a tranquil state into a more alert posture. The change in his stance was minuscule, probably entirely unnoticeable if she hadn't spent her adult life watching for such signs. A slight straightening of the back, tightening of the shoulders, the weight of his body shifting onto the front of his feet as if he were preparing to spring into action.

The Russian spy felt herself tensing up in response to his alarm, her hand dropping from his arm to edge towards where her pistols were hidden.

"What is it?" she whispered, careful to keep her lips barely moving in case someone was watching.

The orange haired doctor still had his head turned, looking off into the distance with narrowed eyes. A bloodcurdling howl echoed in the distance, and a number of terrifying bestial roars answered.

Natasha had given up all pretense of acting normal by this time, both her guns out in hand, safeties off. Her eyes peered in the same direction Ichigo was looking, but she couldn't pick up anything out of the ordinary despite her chemically enhanced vison.

"That asshole," he finally grumbled.

"Ichigo?" the redhead asked nervously as the animalistic noises began to rapidly approach their position. "What's happening?"

Her companion turned to look at her, his expression deadly serious. "Romanoff, listen to me very carefully. Whatever you might see, don't do anything. I mean it. In fact don't move at all. I suspect that they will leave you alone as long as they're focused on me, but I can't fight all of them and protect you at the same time."

Natasha nodded hesitantly, recalling his advice to leave anything strange she saw from the spiritual side alone if she wanted to be left alone herself.

The spy had to fight back the urge to flinch when she first laid eyes on the creature that emerged from the darkness. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, possessing four limbs and standing upright if slightly hunched over, but that was where the similarities ended. Twice as tall as Ichigo and probably three times as wide across the chest, the milky white demon had four wicked looking scythe like claws jutting out from each hand, the talons capable of ripping a man to pieces.

Its face was a grotesque mockery of human facial features taken to the extremes, large bulging eyes accompanied with a wide grinning mouth with far too many teeth. A fist sized hole marred its chest, an odd empty space in its thick body through which Natasha could clearly make out the background behind it.

As it took a menacing step forward, the streetlights overhead flickered and dimmed before shutting down altogether, plunging the area into an eerie darkness. The only source of illumination came from the moon, its odd glow bathing the entire area in an ethereal light.

"Soooo…soooo…hungry," the monster hissed, its voice grating like a thousand fingernails on rusted chalkboards. "You look tasssstttyyyy."

It sniffed the air with monstrous nostrils, a long tongue flickering out to taste the air, saliva drooling out of from between dagger like teeth.

"He's nots alone is he?" it growled hungrily. "Smell her…smell a rat…where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

Its large bulbous eyes darted about, searching the area, but for whatever reason it couldn't seem to see Natasha. She held her breath, instincts screaming at her to shoot the monster in the head, but she waited to see what Ichigo would do.

"There's nothing here for you but me hollow," Ichigo growled taking a threatening step towards the horror.

The hollow creature snapped its teeth, running its long slippery tongue over its lips, eyes focused once more back on the orange haired man.

"Run little mousy…run. We will hunts and eats you after we devour the angry one…" it cooed sinisterly.

Clacking its teeth together in a snapping motion, the hollow tossed its head back and made a loud chittering noise that echoed like an air raid siren.

Natasha tensed as more of that thing's brethren emerged from the gloom. There must have been a dozen of them, each more monstrous in form than the last. One that had a massive snakelike body, it's movements a hypnotic slither despite its human looking torso. Another that had four legs and a mass of tentacles sprouting from its back, no eyes visible. Everywhere she looked there was a horror that hurt her eyes to even glimpse.

The Russian reflexively wet her dry lips, feeling a bead of cold sweat crawl slowly down her neck. The odds did not look good. Ichigo appeared relatively unaffected by the fact that he was surrounded by monsters, still holding himself in the tense but ready stance that he had adopted moments ago when he had first sensed them.

"That all of you?" he asked, unconcerned by their numbers.

The hollows seem to shift in confusion, unable to comprehend why the human before them displayed such fearlessness in their presence.

"Rip you!"

"Shred you!"

"Eat you!"

Their words combined together into a symphony of sounds uttered by guttural monstrous voices, the meaning lost, but the intent unmistakable.

Ichigo sighed and rubbed the back of his head, his body posture relaxing much to Natasha's amazement. "I normally don't like picking on the weak, but I can't have you lot wandering around either. It was your bad luck that you ran into me tonight."

The squat toad like frog monster from the front opened its gapping maw and out shot a long white slimy tongue that easily covered the thirty meters separating it from Ichigo. The fleshy appendage darted out in a blur of movement so fast Natasha's eyes could barely follow.

Somehow, the doctor's hand snapped upwards, a lightning fast motion that trapped the tongue inches away from his face. From behind him, Natasha could see that there was a mutated mouth at the end of the slimy length, round teeth snatching helplessly at the orange haired man's face.

" _I hope you've washed your necks_ ," Ichigo snarled, unconsciously dropping back into his native language.

Giving a mighty pull, the clinician jerked the toad monster forward by its tongue, halting its momentum by slamming his foot viciously into its face. Half mounting the creature using his leg as leverage, the doctor gave a violent tug and there was the wet sound of meat being ripped apart followed by pained squeals.

Ichigo carelessly tossed aside the piece of flesh he had torn out of the monster's head, the toad thing already rapidly disintegrating as it died of its injuries. The man beckoned with his hand, silently taunting the creatures before him.

As one they surged forward, an unstoppable tidal wave of monstrous flesh that should have easily torn any mortal man to pieces through sheer weight alone. Of course as Natasha was rapidly coming to realize, Ichigo was no mere mortal.

With a flick of his hand and a shout, spears of golden light rained from the heavens, piercing into the flesh of the snake creature's serpentine body pinning it helplessly in place. A fast moving hooved hollow boasting a pair of boar like tusks below its jutting jaw had its upper torso blown apart in an explosion of fire, its lower half left still standing despite the upper body being scattered all over in a hundred different pieces.

A cycloptic winged beast was tethered to a golden chain Ichigo summoned from thin air, its bony body turned into an impromptu flail as the physician yanked it from the sky to slam into the confused bodies of its comrades. The human wadded into the midst of the monstrosities, dispatching them with both fist and conjured spell fire, rapidly turning the night into a scene of stomach turning carnage.

"Behind you!" Natasha shouted in warning when the earth erupted from the emerging form of a hollow that had burrowed underground.

Her heart sank when she saw the beast engulf Ichigo in a bear hug, enormous body dwarfing the human. It was over.

"You're mine!" the ugly spirit cackled gleefully.

A moment later its laughter stopped when it realized the human in its grip had not been crushed to pulp as it had expected, despite it having squeezed with all its considerable might.

Ichigo snarled, squirming as he wrestled with the monster, slowly forcing his arms upwards by inches. Natasha watched in stunned silence when the man finally managed to work his hands into hole in the hollows chest and simply ripped the creature in two. The monster shrieked hideously the entire time it was torn asunder, its tormented cries ending when Ichigo dropped the still twitching two halves on the ground.

"Shinigami!" hissed the initial hollow that had appeared. "How?! You don't bear the sword!"

It had hung back, staying in position as its brethren charged blindly towards the human and now it alone remained the only one unscathed.

Ichigo turned to face the demonic spectre, rolling his neck until it cracked, the sound echoing loudly in the now mostly empty battlefield. "I don't need my sword to deal with the likes of you, though it's been a long time since I've been called a Shinigami by anyone."

The human approached the creature that seemed to have been in shock, his steps purposeful. Natasha swallowed thickly, wondering what grisly ending awaited the last hollow.

As the former Shinigami closed, the hollow sprang into sudden action, darting forward with mouth opened wide. From within, Natasha caught a glimpse of glowing light condensing into a basketball sized sphere.

She barely had time to open her mouth to try to shout a warning before night seemed to transform into day. The power from the explosion sent her stumbling backwards, the force of the attack felt even at her considerable distance.

The spy rubbed her smarting eyes, blinking them rapidly to try to clear her vision. By the time she could see again, the dust had mostly settled and she was met with the sight of the hollow having fallen on its backside while staring in shock at a mildly irritated Ichigo. The man had remained standing where he was with his palm outstretched, the skin on the extended appendage singed, but mostly unscathed.

Behind him, carved into the ground in a cone shaped firing pattern was torn up and destroyed gravel for quite some distance. If Natasha didn't know any better she would say that it looked as if someone had detonated a powerful shaped charge in the area.

"How?!" demanded the stunned monster. "That was my best cero!"

Ichigo laughed, his voice echoing in an odd double reverberation as if two recordings were being played slightly out of sync over one another. "You call that a cero? Let me show you what a real cero looks like."

The fingers of his outstretched hand curved inwards into claws, a similar blinding glow building up from the center of his palm. Natasha managed to close her eyes in time to avoid the blinding flash, but even through her eyelids her retina burned red. When she dared to look again, there was nothing left of the creature. The attack seemed to have etched itself into the ground starting from where the hollow had stood, except the destruction ran much deeper and stretched on nearly three times farther than the one that had been thrown at Ichigo.

The spy snapped out of her shock when she heard a shriek, whirling to spot the snakelike hollow that had finally managed to pry itself loose from the spears that had trapped it in place, sacrificing nearly a quarter of its body to free itself. It was slithering rapidly away, easily outstripped the speed of most motor vehicles moving on the highway.

Ichigo swore, raising his hand but hesitated to conjure up any more of his earlier spells of destruction, fearing collateral damage to the nearby homes. Before it could vanish behind a building, a single blue shaft of light appeared in its head, sprouting out as if it had been there all along. Its lengthy body ground to a rigid halt, as if it had been subjected to a high voltage shock. Slowly, it slumped forward, its body disintegrating from the point where it had been struck by the energy bolt.

The soft tap of expensive leather shoes on concrete resonated loudly in the darkness, alerting the duo to someone approaching them. Ichigo turned to watch as Ishida stepped into view, the soft glow from the reiatsu formed bow giving him a ghostly appearance in the murky gloom.

"Really Ishida?" the orange haired doctor snapped. "Hollow bait? You realize how out of hand this could have gotten?"

"Oh please," the Quincy snorted, allowing his conjured weapon to fade from existence. "The day you can't handle a few measly runts like those, I'll hang up my bow and join a monastery."

"That's not the point," growled Ichigo heatedly.

"You're right, it's not," murmured Ishida distractedly as he took a step closer to Natasha who was still on the ground, eyes transfixed to where the snake monster had perished. "Very interesting. I wonder what else the lovely Ms. Parker here might be capable of."

Natasha finally turned to look at the primly dressed man. He was staring intently at her, not the lustful way most men did when gazing at her body, but rather the clinical interest of a person examining a particularly puzzling specimen they had never seen before. She looked down at herself and gasped at what she saw.

The spy had been so engrossed in Ichigo's fight with the hollows that she had somehow not noticed it until now. Dark shadows had creeped up her body, cladding her form in midnight hue all the way up to her neck, the inky material forming one smooth sleek bodysuit.

"What is this?" she whispered as she raised her hand up to examine the slick substance.

"When did it start?" Ishida asked, directing the question at Ichigo and completely ignoring her.

"Sometime when the first hollow began to call to the others," the former Shinigami said with a thoughtful frown, lowering himself to lean against a fire hydrant. "I noticed her shadow twitching a bit, but it didn't start to really do anything like that until that first one tried to jump me."

"It appears strictly defensive in nature at the moment," the white clad doctor observed as he pushed the frames of his glasses up his nose. "Quite unexpected really."

"What the hell is going on?" Natasha demanded, having had enough of being talked around. "What is all this?"

She stood on shaky feet, glaring at the two men before her. "What is happening to me?"

The street lights flickered for a moment, and then one by one snapped back on with an electrical crackle. The blackness clinging to her body melted away at the touch of the artificial light, slowly dripping off her body like a wave of tar. Natasha watched in horrid fascination as the substance oozed back into the shadow cast by her body, bubbling messily before sinking away into nothingness.

A limo pulled silently up towards the trio, carefully maneuvering around the destroyed pavement. The driver's door clicked open and sharply dressed older gentleman stepped out, quickly moving to open the passenger doorway at the rear of the lengthy vehicle. The spy noted that he was dressed just as pristinely as Uryuu was, and had the same odd five pointed star pendant at his wrists.

Ishida nodded an acknowledgement at his chauffer, stepping into his vehicle and rolling down the window once the door was snapped shut behind him.

"Well this has been an interesting distraction, but ultimately none of my business I suppose. A good evening to you Ms. Parker. And Ichigo, you might want to give those people a call to clean up this mess. You never were the most elegant fighter."

The Quincy smirked when his orange haired peer gave him a rude one fingered gesture. "Eloquent as usual. Give our _hime_ a call will you? She always gets worried when she hasn't heard from you in a while and for whatever reason that means she badgers me for answers."

The limo pulled away with a crunch of gravel, leaving Natasha alone with Ichigo again.

"Bastard," the orange haired man grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Come on, I'll walk you the rest of the way to your apartment."

A part of Natasha wanted to scream at him, to demand answers on what the hell she had just witnessed. This had not been what she had been expecting. She couldn't wrap her head around it. What were those monsters? What was with that insane strength Ichigo displayed? The magical powers? Were Ichigo and Ishida even human?

She bit back on her near hysterical reaction, simply looping her arm around his and wordlessly leading him towards her current place of residence.

By the time they stood inside her doorway, she had calmed herself enough to start making the connections, the bits and pieces of the puzzles she had collected slowly falling into place as her agile mind tried to fit them all together.

"You used to fight those hollow things back in your hometown," the spy stated, fairly certain she had hit the mark.

People wounded or dying mysteriously, claw marks and damage to the environment. It certainly fit the bill with what she had seen tonight, and no wonder it remained an unsolved mystery. Only people like her would even be able to see those monsters.

"Something like that," Ichigo said with a faraway look in his eyes.

He stood just outside of the threshold of her home, hands jammed in his pockets. The sullen look and immature posture should have looked silly on a man who had lived three decades, but somehow it suited him.

"Is that what happens to a ghost when they lose the chain in their chest?" Natasha asked quietly. "Would Angelina have turned into one of those things if you hadn't sent her on?"

The orange haired man nodded grimly. "Souls aren't meant to stick around in the world of the living. All their hurt, despair and regret, it eventually turns them into hollows when they forget what it means to be human. They live to consume other spiritual beings, a never ending hunger driving them to hunt and kill until they are put down. Souls devoured by hollows are completely removed from the cycle of birth and death, changing the balance of the universe permanently."

The thought was unsettling to the Russian. She had had hundreds of ghosts hanging around her, any one of them might have turned into one of those hollows and killed her had she not met Ichigo.

"I've never seen them before," Natasha whispered. "How could I have missed those things?"

"Your powers no doubt protected you from them," Ichigo replied with a shrug. "Whatever you did with your shadow, it made you impossible for them to see or for us to sense. I suspect whatever shielding it provides works only on spirit entities. Ishida and I could still see you, probably because we could rely on our mortal eyes."

"I can't unsee them can I?" she sighed, her stomach sinking with the sick certainty she felt. "Just like how when you showed me those spirit ribbons that I didn't notice before, I can't choose to not see them anymore."

Ichigo grimaced. "I'm afraid not. You're going to have to live with it whether you like it or not."

Her hands clenched into fists as she recalled how helpless she had felt, standing there watching Ichigo fight. The Black Widow wasn't used to being sidelined. She hated the thought of having to be protected.

"Teach me," she demanded tersely. "Show me how to use my powers. How to do the things that you do. Let me fight!"

The former Shinigami shook his head. "Listen to me Romanoff, your powers allows you to sidestep it all. You might be able to see them, but they can't see you. Forget what you saw tonight. Go home. Go on living your life, put all this behind you. It's easier that way, trust me."

Natasha slammed a balled fist into the wall in frustration. "And what am I supposed to do when I see one of those things attack a ghost? Or worst, a human? Stand by in the shadows and watch it happen?!"

"That's exactly what you you'll do."

Her mouth fell open at the callous response, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. She'd heard her share of greater good speeches, given a few herself when she thought it was necessary. But even the hardened spy felt stung by the man's cold words.

"How can you say that?!" she demanded hotly. "You're a doctor! You're supposed to save lives!"

Ichigo gave a forlorn sigh.

"As hard as it may be to swallow, hollows are as much a part of the cycle of life as we are," he said unhappily. "Who they hunt, who they kill, it's all meant to maintain the balance so that our universe doesn't fall into chaos. You don't want to know what happens if the balance is lost. Our fragile reality isn't ready for the attention of beings drawn to that sort of energy."

"But you can fight those things!" Natasha exclaimed. "I watched you beat them! Why can't you teach me to do the same? If you don't want to fight, then fine, that's your choice and no one can blame you for that. But I want to fight! I want to make a difference! Don't deny me that."

"I used to think that way too you know," Ichigo said with a bitter smile. "My mother was devoured by a hollow despite being alive. When I first found out the truth, I swore I would never let another person suffer as my family had. I ran around, fighting monsters and protecting others thinking it all made a difference."

The former Shinigami raised his injured hand up, forming a fist in front of his face, eyes misted over by memories from the distant past. He lowered his hand, eyes staring dully back at the woman before him.

"It didn't," he stated simply. "There's no good or evil, no real right or wrong. Who lives? Who dies? That's just all a part of an endless cycle that's been in place longer than you or I can comprehend and it will continue long after we're both gone."

"What happened to you Ichigo?" Natasha asked sadly.

He wasn't heartless; it hurt him to say the things he did. The truth of how his mother had died still pained him to this day, she didn't need special training to see that.

A ghost of a smile touched his face, a dim reflection of a tired man who had seen and done far too much in his short lifetime.

"I had a long hard conversation with the closest thing to God that we have in this universe," Ichigo chuckled quietly. "Then I was forced to grow up."

The red haired woman watched him depart with those words, his shoulders slumped from the burden of knowing too many truths. Silently the spy vowed to herself not to give up. She still had more questions than answers, but one thing was certain. She could not remain the way she was now, not having learned what she did.

Natasha was a woman of action. She prided herself in being able to complete any task, finish any mission. When she saw something that needed doing, no one would stop her from getting it done. Not even a former death god.

 **AN: Thoughts? Love to see them in reviews, so lay'em on me!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Haven't had time to sit down and write because of work and school, but couldn't stand having all the ideas rattling in my head and not put down on paper. So here's the next part, shorter than the last chapter but introducing a bit more of what I had in mind. Please read and let me know what you guys think! I love seeing people's responses, it often sparks ideas that I hadn't considered, so fire away with those thoughts and reactions!**

 _Ichigo approached the downtrodden Shinigami standing in lonely vigil over an unmarked grave, one of thousands that populated the makeshift cemetery. The midafternoon air was warm with the approach of summer, the spring bloom still in full swing. Despite the cheery air of the season where life is renewed, the atmosphere was heavy with an intangible weight._

 _Abarai Renji had changed greatly from the boisterous loudmouth Ichigo had first fought on that rainy night Rukia had been taken away for execution. Gone was the wild fun loving man who was as quick to invite a former enemy to go drinking as he was to deck them while having that drink with them. In his place stood a brooding warrior who seldom spoke unless spoken to first, preferring to allow his blade and fists to do most the talking._

 _The human said nothing as he silently joined his comrade, watching as the redhead poured a bit of sake over the grave marker from the jug he held in his hand in a silent gesture of respect. Each of the graves had remained unmarked by the order of the commanding general of the Gotei 13, a symbolization that no one soul was worth more than another regardless of what station they might have held in life. Yet still when people visited fallen comrades to offer their prayers, they gravitated towards the same marker that represented to them someone they had lost._

" _I never thought I'd outlive Byakuya of all people," Renji muttered quietly without turning away from the small ringed off plot of land. "Bastard was always so calm and collected, even in the heat of battle. Figured someone like me who always rushed in halfcocked would be dead long before he would."_

" _He died buying us time," Ichigo replied somberly. "War might have ended on a different note had it not been for his sacrifice. There can be no better death than that for a man like Byakuya."_

 _The red haired Shinigami sighed, taking a sip from the flask before offering it to his human companion. Ichigo wordlessly took the proffered drink, spilling some on the grave before toasting the fallen Captain of the 6_ _th_ _division._

 _Byakuya had been an ass, no one would say otherwise. But duty was something ingrained so deeply into the stoic Kuchiki that even knowing he was marching to his death his footsteps had never wavered once. That was worthy of admiration and it was the trait he would be remembered for. They hadn't been friends, but Ichigo grieved for Byakuya as he did any of the other brother and sister in arms he had lost to the war._

 _Renji accepted the flask back after Ichigo had taken his fill. Running his free hand through his untamed mane, the red haired Shinigami drained the rest of the sake. The two men silently contemplated the blank gravestone, each lost in their own thoughts and memories. Finally the redhead turned to face Ichigo, agitation twisting his face into a fierce expression._

" _I won't ask you what the soul king spoke to you about Ichigo, that's your business," the lieutenant said. "But was all this really worth it? This war, all these deaths. In the end, did we do the right thing?"_

 _The human substitute snorted disdainfully, crossing his arms with a scowl. "You say it like there was an alternative. If you've got another solution, I'm all ears."_

 _Renji snarled and threw the empty flask on the ground in a fit of anger, the ceramic jug smashing into a dozen pieces._

" _It's not right!" he growled, gesturing at the graves. "How can I face them, knowing they gave their lives for this and in the end the best we could do is put the bastard responsible in a hole in the ground?! We didn't win Ichigo! We stalled and Aizen got stupid! It's not a victory if he's still alive!"_

" _Aizen's as close to immortal as a man can get," Ichigo sighed, looking away. "It's a damn miracle we managed to trap him before he finished his metamorphoses. Any attempts to breach the wards to get to him might allow him to break free. We can't risk that, you know this Renji. As it is, he's pretty much going to be stuck in that half transformed state for all eternity, suitable punishment for his crimes seeing as he's still aware of his surroundings."_

 _The tattooed warrior glared sullenly down at the ground, kicking angrily at a piece of the remains of the bottle he had destroyed._

" _Just doesn't seem right," he grumbled, shoulders slumped._

" _I'm not disagreeing," Ichigo said quietly. "But what can we do about it?"_

 _The two men returned to silently staring at the graves. There was no need for more words, the war was over. Victory had simply been more bittersweet than anyone had expected._

 _Time passed, the two warriors standing still as statues, watching the sun slowly begin to sink past the horizon._

" _I take it you're not here to wax philosophy with me Ichigo," Renji finally said as evening began to make its presence known._

" _No," the human replied gruffly. "I'm here to say goodbye."_

 _The redhead shot Ichigo a sideways look. It wasn't totally unexpected of course. Despite Ichigo's prominent role in the war, he still had ties to the living world unlike the other Shinigami._

" _Goodbye huh?" Renji mused. "Must be nice having something besides rubble to return to. I take it you handed in your badge then?"_

" _Old man Yama wasn't too pleased," Ichigo responded with a shrug. "But he let it go. It's not like he has any real control over me since officially I'm not an instated Shinigami. And as of this morning I'm not even a substitute anymore."_

 _Renji nodded in understanding.. "So you're going back to being human full time then? What will you do?"_

 _The orange haired man contemplated the question, expression pensive. "Been doing nothing but killing these past few years Renji. Maybe I'd try my hand at healing instead. Go to medical school and become a doctor like my old man."_

 _The redhead snorted. "You'd make a terrible healer with that attitude of yours."_

 _The two men shared a quiet laugh._

 _Renji turned to fully face his ally, a smirk adorning his wild features. The tattoos he had inked on the side of his face was somewhat ruined by the multiple facial scars he had collected over the war. The particularly ugly gash carving down his left eye was a final parting gift from the 6_ _th_ _Espada before Renji had finally managed to kill him. As the saying goes, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had not gone gentle into the good night._

" _Well if you're hanging up your sword for good, then I have one last request to make," the lieutenant said, his hand drifting down to his sword. "We never did get a chance to settle our old score, and it looks like we never may again if we don't do this now."_

 _The human laughed, a genuine sound that had become rare during the long war that had claimed so many lives._

" _You're really something else Renji, you know that?"_

 _The human mirrored the smirk on his Shinigami friend's face, hand reaching across his broad back to lift the massive form of Zangetsu from the shoulder strap used to keep his soul sword in place._

" _It's rather uncouth behavior for the future captain of the 6_ _th_ _division you know," he taunted._

" _It's not official yet," Renji shot back dismissively. "Besides, even if they hand me the damn coat it doesn't mean I'll turn into Byakuya."_

 _The two combatants circled each other, watching for the appropriate moment to leap. Neither men gave an opening, their battle stances near perfect from having survived hundreds of similar clashes over the past half-decade. Finally they fell still, facing each other with blades raised and guards down._

" _Renji," Ichigo said solemnly. "This is probably the last time we will cross blades as warriors."_

 _Steely eyes met one another, a silent understanding passing between them._

" _Ai," the man replied sadly. "Let's make the most of it shall we?"_

 _As the last ray of sunlight vanished over the skyline, the two warriors reacted to the invisible signal, leaping forward with battle cries that sent nearby nesting birds into panicked flight._

 **\\******* ! ******* SCENE BREAK ******* ! *******\**

Ichigo woke from the dream memory, a dull ache forming in his chest as he recalled the final time he had drawn his blade and fought. He still saw his old friend, now indeed instated as the captain of Byakuya's old division, but their relationship had never quite been the same after the war. Perhaps it was time that eventually estranged them, or maybe because Ichigo had moved on with his life while Renji remained tormented by the events of the past, but the easy comradery of the battlefield had been replaced by more formal tones neither men were entirely comfortable with.

The doctor became aware of the soft shifting weight on his chest that had pulled him from slumber. He held still as the lump burrowed itself beneath the covers with him. A moment passed before the small form grew into a pleasant tangle of warm limbs and soft skin that quickly entwined itself around him.

Opening a tired eye, he peered into the golden feline irises that were staring back mischievously at him from beneath the blankets.

"Hello Ichigo," Yoruichi purred, rubbing a creamy thigh sensually against his own. "Did you miss me?"

The orange haired doctor shifted so that the dark skinned goddess could more comfortably rest her head on his shoulder. Their warm bodies molded comfortably against one another, their state of undress not given a seconds thought.

"When did you get in?" he asked nonchalantly, as if having a naked woman appear in his bed in the middle of the night was a fairly regular occurrence.

"Just now," Yoruichi murmured, nuzzling Ichigo's neck and running a tongue roughly against his earlobe. "I've got this itch that needs scratching, and my fingers just aren't enough anymore Ichigo. Help a girl out?"

Ichigo chuckled, pulling his former teacher and occasional lover close, inhaling her spice infused scent. The exotic fragrance filled his nose, causing his arousal to spike now that her familiar aroma was all around him. The dark skinned Shinigami gently nudged the growing bulge between his legs, heightening the excitement surging through his body.

"How could I ever say no to you?" he growled huskily.

Their lovemaking was long, passionate and loud. It was a familiar dance, both partners knowing how to please the other, their mastery of each other's body impeccable from years of practice.

Time and separation made their desperate need of each other almost insatiable, their torment eased by the comfort of the other's presence. By the time their sweaty bodies collapsed together from the peaks of repeated writhing orgasms, it was nearing sunrise.

"So why the unexpected visit? Not that I'm complaining, but usually you call ahead so I can clear my schedule. I'm fairly certain Sui Feng would have been more than happy to take care of your needs if that was all you needed," the former Shinigami representative teased the nestled form of his lover.

"Little Bee might be a fun distraction," laughed Yoruichi from her position curled up against Ichigo, "but I need a certain length and girth to satisfy my needs, but a strap-on is just so cold and lifeless. There's only one man who meets my requirements."

Ichigo barked a laugh, allowing his calloused handd to give her firm buttocks a playful squeeze. It was an odd relationship that they shared, one of former master and pupil before later becoming comrade in arms during the Winter War and then finally moving into the much murkier grounds of lovers separated by life and death. Ichigo had too many years left of life to leave the livinig to join Yoruichi in Seireitei, but neither could the princess of the Shihoin clan leave to stay in the earthly realm with him once she had been accepted back into the fold.

They had agreed on an open relationship of sorts, allowing both the freedom to seek their own partners until they could be united again. At the time if they still felt the same way about each other, they would make their union official.

Yet despite this promise, neither really took advantage of their freedoms. Ichigo had never been with a human woman, although there certainly had been no end in offers. And despite Yoruichi's jokes about the current second division captain's unhealthy interest in her, the goddess of the flash step had never taken another lover since she had first invited Ichigo to her bed.

Both had tried to convince the other that it was absolutely alright to find another partner while they waited for Ichigo's eventual passing, yet both were stubborn enough not to take the other up on their offer. And so they continued their odd relationship, Yoruichi occasionally sneaking out into the world of the living in a gigai to spend a few days with Ichigo and the human in turn taking trips to the afterlife to spend time with her there when time permitted. There was a running joke amongst the Shinigami who knew of their odd liaison about a truly long distance relationship, but no one dared utter it aloud within hearing range of the two heroes of the Winter War.

"A little birdie told me that you've taken on an apprentice of sorts," the goddess made flesh murmured sleepily, the exhaustion from their fierce lovemaking finally catching up with her. "I wanted to see who had caught your attention."

Ichigo groaned, smothering his face with the pillow. "And here I was thinking you came to visit because you missed me."

The former second division captain laughed softly. "That too of course. But I can't let any woman take my Ichigo without my approval. What's she like?"

"Natasha Romanoff," the human grunted, rearranging the head support into a more comfortable position. "And there's nothing to take. She's some sort of super spy that works for SHIELD, an organization that supposedly monitors unnatural events and tries to prevent as much damage as possible when something does boil over."

"She a Fullbringer?" Yuroichi questioned with interest.

There were few reiatsu sensitive humans in the world and the Gotei 13 made a special effort to keep track of the few that were. Officially they were monitored for the safety of other humans near them, being constantly exposed to high reiatsu had odd effects on the living. Unofficially it was mostly to keep an eye on any possible threats before they could expose the world to knowledge best kept hidden.

"Can't say for certain, it's hard to peg exactly what her power is, but it definitely has to do with shadows," Ichigo replied with a frown. "Seriously, are we really talking about another woman after sex? I feel like this is some sort of test and it's going to bite me in the ass later."

Yoruichi chuckled and snuggled closer, enjoying the warmth of her human partner's embrace. "I'm the one asking silly, so that makes ok. What exactly have you been teaching her?"

"Nothing," Ichigo snapped irritably. "She just keeps popping up to bug me. Seriously, who the hell told you about her anyways? Was it Ishida? That man is the worst gossip, I swear! Have you lot officially accepted him into Shinigami Women's Association yet?"

The princess of one of the four noble clans of the afterlife socked the human in the arm with a chuckle but did not reply to her fuming lover. "Maybe if you showed her something she'd leave you alone."

"As if," he snorted. "I know her type, she's just like Tatsuki. If I give her an inch, she'll take a mile and come running back to bug me for more once she's done with that. No, the best way to deal with her is to ignore her until she gets tired of badgering me or starts to figure things out on her own."

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing Ichigo," Yoruichi said reasonably. "I know we've talked about this before, but you must get awfully lonely living the way you do. I want you to be happy, you've got years ahead of you. Find someone and settle down. Be normal for once in your life!"

"I already found someone," Ichigo countered stubbornly. "I don't need anyone else other than you Yoruichi."

The Shinigami's gaze softened at her lover's words, secretly melting on the inside. She caressed his chest reassuringly as she felt his arms tighten possessively over her. Ichigo didn't have the best communication skills, but that was alright with her. He said what mattered when it mattered the most.

"It's going to be a few long lonely decades before we can really be together," the former exile reminded him halfheartedly. "That human body of yours won't be able to keep up with mine in the bedroom for much longer."

The dark skinned woman sat up and bounced her perky breasts in her hands as if to emphasize her point. Ichigo watched the tantalizing motion with half lidded eyes, a soft appreciative smile on his lips gazed up at her.

"Kept up well enough just now didn't I?" he asked mildly, earning himself a playful shove from the carefree Shinigami. "Besides, won't it be as long as you think."

A dark purple eyebrow rose up. "Did I miss something? Last I checked you were thirty two, and for most humans that means another good fifty years left before their bodies finally give out."

Ichigo looked away, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "I'm dying princess."

There was a long moment of silence as Yuroichi stared back blankly at the man next to her, wondering if she had heard wrong.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, finally breaking from her shock. "Is it a disease? Call Orihime! I'm sure she could fix it!"

"No that's not it," Ichigo replied with a casual wave of his hand. "I'm a doctor, of course I take care of my body. I'm healthy as a horse."

"You can fuck like one too," Yoruichi added automatically, her reflexive humor a defense mechanism meant to deflect her own worry. "So what is it then?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Just a side effect of me leaving my body behind so often in my younger days. Souls aren't meant to be separated from flesh like that. My spiritual form continued to grow stronger and stronger, but my human body wasn't able to adapt as quickly. Like a hand trying to squeeze into a glove a few sizes too small, something's bound to eventually give. Usually it's not the hand. Unfortunately for me with that analogy my body's the glove. Ishida and I figure I've got another decade at most and that's assuming I keep myself in my body at all times."

"Urahara could figure something out!" Yoruichi protested, gesturing wildly. "Or that freak Mayuri! He's got to be good for something! Hell, Orihime could probably-!"

She fell silent as Ichigo pulled her into his warm arms, her head falling to rest on his shoulder. The dark skinned Shinigami sniffled, angrily brushing at the moisture that had formed in her eyes at the unexpected news.

"You're probably right love," Ichigo murmured softly. "Thing is, I don't really care anymore. There's not much holding me here in this life, my friends have all moved on with their own lives, my family is doing fine without me. They can all still come visit me on the other side, it's not hard to get permission to travel there. I don't mind dying young Yoruichi, not if it means I can be with you."

"Damn it Ichigo!" Yoruichi snarled. "I won't have you throwing your life away for me!"

"What life?" he asked gently. "Sure, I'm still alive and kicking, but there's nothing really keeping me going except the thought of being with you. I mean, how stupid is that? Living for the moment I die? Every night I come home to an empty bed wishing I could be by your side. Is it so wrong that I'm willing to let my body perish so I can be with the woman I love?"

"You're an idiot," she mumbled into his chest, trying to hide the tears spilling down her face.

Their relationship had never been an easy one. It was not simply the gulf of years that separated them. Yoruichi was one of those rare few souls that had been born in the afterlife, never having actually been human. It was why she was so against Ichigo simply leaving the world of the living to be with her, she felt like he was throwing away a chance she herself had never had.

"Your idiot," he corrected lightly, pulling her into a deep passionate kiss.

When they broke apart, she was smiling again, a warm feeling having filled the cold void in her chest when she had learned her lover was dying. A part of her felt guilty at the slight happiness she felt knowing that her human lover would be with her sooner than expected. But things would work out, they always did with Ichigo.

"So…tell me more about Natasha," she said slyly.

The human groaned and fell back into bed, ignoring his caramel skinned lover's boisterous laugh. Fishing a hand lazily in the air, he reached out with his reiatsu, calling the strand of spirit energy he had familiarized himself with the first night he had met the spy.

He handed the ribbon over to Yoruichi, rolling onto his side and shutting his eyes.

"Go find out yourself if you're so curious," he huffed. "It's not like she and I know each other all that well."

The cinnamon colored beauty cast the thread aside after memorizing it's signature, spooning up to the human while humming noncommittally. Reaching a hand around his waist, she began to stroke his manhood, the organ eagerly responding to her touch despite the abuse that had already been heaped upon it over the past few hours.

"Maybe later," she murmured wickedly. "Right now there's a hard cock that needs my attention first."

 **AN: So by now I'm sure the readers have picked up the fact that the Winter War was greatly altered in my story. The vision I have is one of actual war, not one big epic battle where they slugged it out with minimal casualties. There was no Final Getsuga Tenshou, just five years of bloodied battles raging all across the living world, seiretei and hueco mundo. More tidbits will be shared in both conversational anecdotes and maybe some more flashbacks, but it's not a major point of the story here. Basically they caught Aizen with his pants around his ankles and gave him such an epic wedgie he's never getting back up again. In theory…**

 **But all that aside, the main thing I wanted to do with this chapter was introduce Yoruichi. I hope that my characterization of her come across as the sassy playful woman that I see her as. I'm not sure their relationship is fully conveyed in this short chapter, but we'll see more of their interactions and insight into how it is they got where they were with further updates.**

 **So let me know your thoughts and opinions. Praises, flames, and prayer all welcome as long as it's constructive in some manner! Until the next chapter, goodnight from the West Coast!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hey all, been away for a bit and just got back to writing. Again, just wrote and did a quick edit myself so appreciate it if you'd point out any glaring errors. Hope you enjoy it, please leave me your thoughts and comments.**

Natasha stretched out lazily on the rooftop she had been using to watch Ichigo while he was at work. She'd taken Fury's advice to heart; the spy was trying very hard to relax during her vacation time even if it was a rather alien experience. Sleeping in wasn't something that the Black Widow was used to doing. Her body had been systematically beaten until it could only accept five hours of sleep a day, her internal biological clock waking her at exactly 5:00 a.m. regardless of when she actually went to bed.

But after having witnessed some of the terrors that lurked in the darkness it had been much harder to fall asleep than normal and that was really saying something for someone haunted by the memories of murdering other people. As a consequence of long sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, laying in while the sun crept up over the horizon had actually felt good pretty good even if Natasha hadn't actually been able to return to sleep.

It had been a few days since the night Ichigo had walked her home. Natasha had kept her distance, preferring to watch him as he worked during the day when the height of the sun provided good shade from the corner of the rooftop that she liked to use when spying on him. Her mornings consisted of languishing in bed until almost nine, wandering out to a local diner for a quick breakfast that she had discovered early on in her vacation, then meandering back to her apartment to prepare for an afternoon of halfhearted reconnaissance.

The spy brought with her a book, a music player and her laptop, alternating between reading, stealing the clinic's wifi and watching Ichigo work while she listened to classical music. Lunch happened in the form of a sweaty sandwich she purchased from a local eatery across the street from the private clinic. It was an odd feeling really; she had not felt so alone since she had first started killing people for a living. Angelina was always a good diversion for long boring recon missions and if she was off exploring the world there was James who was always up for a good distraction. Now it felt eerily quiet sitting unaccompanied on the rooftop, the tranquility making her skin prickle when she allowed her thoughts to wander for too long. The silence made her restless, it just didn't seem natural.

Natasha raised the binoculars to her eyes, zooming in on the distinct mop of orange hair. Ichigo was as stoic working in the clinic as he was when he had been destroying those hollows. There was no doubt that he was a skilled physician; he wouldn't be so busy if he wasn't, but people person he definitely was not. It was evident in the way he scowled at his patients, waving his hand animatedly while lecturing them on their health in one way or another before shooing them off with another stern warning.

Surprisingly the man was quite good with children. Although he didn't advertise as a pediatrician, a large number of parents brought their kids to him. He transformed somewhat in the presence of younger patients, seemingly becoming less irritated and more tolerant. He still scolded and gave his warnings, just in a less aggravating manner than with adults.

The spy smiled as she watched a little girl give the man a hug around his knees while he awkwardly patted her back. It was nice to see the softer side to Ichigo.

A soft meow took her attention away from the binoculars. Turning her head, the Russian spy spotted the sleek dark cat that had found its way onto her section of the rooftop.

Smiling involuntarily, she watched the feline cautiously approach her. Natasha had always had a soft spot for cats, an odd feeling of kinship to the independent creatures that called no one master. Perhaps it was admiration for their sovereignty despite their dependence on an owner to care for them. She considered herself an independent woman, but if she was honest with herself she had just traded one leash for another in joining SHIELD. Perhaps a leash the spy preferred more, but still one that kept her in place if she pushed too hard.

This particular specimen was a fine example of feline grace, a young female with well-groomed fur and beautiful green eyes. It moved with deliberate motion, head held proudly, regal as any queen.

Natasha reached a hand out cautiously so as not to spook the cat, smiling again when it seemed to sniff at the appendage before exposing it's flank for her to touch. It almost seemed like she was giving the human permission to pet her.

"Well aren't you beautiful," Natasha cooed as she rubbed the animal's rump, knowing that any other spot would probably get her a swat of irritation from its claws.

"Thanks. You're not half bad yourself."

The spy's hand froze, her eyes practically popping out of her head.

"Well don't stop," chastised the dark cat as it peered up at her with its large jade eyes. "You were doing a pretty good job. Ichigo was never any good at petting me."

Her hand automatically returned to the soothing motion it had before, but her mind remained in its frozen state, not quite able to comprehend what she was currently faced with.

"What's the matter?" purred the feline as it stretched indolently under her strokes. "Cat got your tongue? I thought you'd be sharper from what Ichigo told me, but maybe he was wrong."

"You're a talking cat," Natasha finally managed to choke out over her astonishment.

"My, observant aren't we?" deadpanned the animal.

It seemed to finally tire of the physical attention, standing up and turning about to face her while swatting aside her hand with a long silky tail.

"So I heard from a little birdie that you've been watching Ichigo," the cat grumbled in its deep bass voice, sitting on its haunches. "Word is you've been asking a lot of questions. Questions he'd rather leave unanswered."

"There are things I've seen that I need answers for," Natasha said, finally getting past the fact that she was conversing with a cat of all things. "Those hollow things, his powers. My powers."

The cat peered at her, circling her once and sniffing her scent.

"Odd, it seems whatever power you managed to call on that night is dormant. Something you instinctively use, but have no idea how to consciously summon."

"I know Ichigo can help me," Natasha said, following the animal's movement with her eyes but staying still herself. "These powers can benefit me in my line of work, help me save more people."

"Oh Ichigo can help you alright," purred the cat as it turned and began walking away, "but I doubt he would make a good teacher. Boy always had his own way of doing things and his methods aren't something most can simply copy. If you're serious about trying to unlock your spiritual powers then I suppose I can spend some time showing you a thing or two."

"You?" the redhead asked in surprise. "No offence, but what can a cat show me?"

The feline shook it's head with a chuckle. "This old cat might know a thing or two; after all, I did teach Ichigo a lot of what he knows."

The unexpected revelation floored the spy somewhat, but at that point she really should have come to expect it. What was a talking cat in comparison to learning about ghost monsters that could eat people?

Natasha sprang to her feet, abandoning her equipment as she chased after the cat that had taken nimbly off across the rooftop. She stopped and stared when the feline reached the edge of the roof and casually hopped the span of the street to reach the other rooftop almost sixty meters away.

It turned its head, tail flicking in an almost taunting manner.

"Follow me if you want answers," the cat called out.

Grabbing onto the ledge, the spy lowered her body over the side of the building extending her arms their full span before letting go. Absorbing the three story drop with her legs, she rolled with the momentum when she hit the floor, instantly getting back on her feet with little more than a dull ache in her ankles. Thank god she wasn't wearing heels.

Dodging through traffic, she reached the other side of the street in record time, barely slowing as she weaved between honking vehicles.

Using the hidden micro-grappler shooter mounted underneath her wrists, she launched a thin nearly invisible wire up to the roof where the hooks punched a hole through the granite and found purchase. The ultrathin cable was a carbon nanofiber weave in a pattern based off spider silk, rated to hold up to half a ton before reaching tensile breaking point despite being thinner than a fishing line.

She walked up the side of the building, easing the tension placed on the reel on her wrist mounts as the miniature motors retracted the thin wire. Natasha cursed as she caught a flash of dark fur disappearing over the other end of the building. The spy launched herself after the creature, determined not to let her answers get away from her.

The chase lasted almost twenty minutes, the cat leading her through a concrete jungle of rooftops, back alleyways and tight turns. At one point it had hurled itself over a bridge to land lightly on a fast moving car, forcing Natasha to hitch a ride on the rooftop of a truck in the same manner.

By the time she finally caught up to the unnaturally agile feline, she found herself standing in front of Ichigo's home, the cat sitting on its haunches waiting for her.

"Not too shabby for a human," the feline commented flippantly. "I'm impressed you were able to keep up with me, and on sheer muscle power too."

"Why are we here?" the spy asked, barely out of breath.

It had been a good chase, a part of her having enjoyed the exercise. There was a certain feeling of freedom when moving without constraint, to think laterally in how best to catch up to a target that was equally unrestrained in their attempt to escape capture.

"To talk of course," the cat answered, getting up and heading for the entrance. "Get the door would you?"

"I don't have the keys," replied Natasha. "Ichigo and I are hardly on talking terms, let alone house sitting."

It was odd seeing a cat roll it's eyes, the gesture so human it just seemed wrong on an animal.

"Oh please," the feline snorted. "You're a spy. If you haven't ransacked his home by now, I'll eat my scat."

Sighing, the human mumbled unsavory things under her breath as she moved up to the door and began to pick the lock with the steel lock picks she kept on her person. It was true that she had been through Ichigo's home twice now while he was away at work, but it rankled her somewhat to be called out upon it by a cat of all things.

It led the way in, casually ordering her to close the door.

When Natasha turned around again, the cat was gone. In its place stood a tall athletic dark skinned woman with long purple hair, the strands falling all the way down to her waist, and really that was all there was to her. She was completely naked, entirely unconcerned by the fact that her breasts and private area was hanging out for all to see if the way she was standing was any indication.

"Hmm well I suppose introductions are needed," the tanned woman said while tapping her chin. "The name's Yoruichi Shihouin, nice to meet you."

"Natasha Romanoff," the spy automatically replied. "And you're naked."

The woman opposite of her looked down carelessly at her nude form and shrugged. "So I am. If it bothers you I'll go put on some clothes I suppose."

It didn't bother Natasha per say, nudity had long since become something that was the least of her concerns, hell, she considered her own body just another weapon to be used against the enemy. Seduction was just as effective as torture in the hands of a master.

Yoruichi was a very attractive woman, something the bisexual spy could appreciate, but at the moment she needed a second to collect her thoughts more than anything else.

"By all means," the redhead said with a gallant gesture away from the room.

"I'll never understand you humans and this nudity taboo of yours," grumbled Yoruichi as she prowled towards the staircase.

Natasha wandered over to the wall where Ichigo kept pictures of his friends and family. She had given it a quick look the first time she broke in and a much longer look after the night when she had learned about hollows. At the time she had been interested in a photograph showing a younger Ishida staring out haughtily from the frame, next to a scowling Ichigo and a large dark skinned young man and a teenaged brown haired girl with an impressive bust line.

Her eyes found the photo she had been looking for, one of Ichigo looking to be somewhere in his early twenties. The background was at a beach somewhere in the Caribbean judging by the vegetation. A younger looking Ichigo was almost smiling in a pair of blue swim trunks although he had a t-shirt on. The dark skinned woman laughing at his side was most definitely Yoruichi, the distinct purple hair unmistakable. Natasha hadn't given the photo much second thought when she had first seen it, figuring it to be a past girlfriend or something, but now with the cat woman in front of her, she had to wonder.

"Yeah that was me, must have been almost ten years ago."

The spy whirled around, having not heard or sensed Yoruichi approaching her. The dark skinned woman was standing right behind her, arms crossed and dressed in dark gray sweatpants and a black oversized sweater. Both articles of clothing were far too large, hanging off her lithe frame in a baggy but surprisingly fashionable look.

"Those are Ichigo's clothes," Natasha noted.

Golden feline shaped irises switched focus from the photograph back to staring at the redhead with keen interest.

"And so they are," Yoruichi replied with her head cocked to one side. "Problem?"

The dark beauty asked the question casually enough, but from one woman to another the underlying message was rather clear despite her bland tone. Territory marked and duly noted, cross at your own peril.

Natasha raised her hands up in a placating motion. "None from me. Just curious, his dossier doesn't mention anything about a girlfriend or wife."

Yoruichi grinned. "Well I'm not quite his girlfriend per say. I guess you can say I'm his pussy on the side."

The redhead rolled her eyes at the crude joke. "You're hilarious. Do yourself a favor and don't quit your day job. So you said you have answers for me?"

The now dressed caramel skinned woman crossed her arms. "That depends on how far you're willing to go to find them. Learning to unlock your reiatsu isn't an easy process; in some cases it can even be deadly."

The spy mirrored the other woman's posture and stance. "I've got about half a month's time left before I have to go back to my job. Risking my life is a bit of a requirement in my line of work. Try me."

Yoruichi chuckled. "Anyone can risk their life. Are you willing to risk your soul?"

Natasha paused at that. Anyone else who said that to her and she would dismiss it as a dramatic turn of phrase. Given the kinds of people Ichigo knew, something told her Yoruichi meant it quite literally.

The redhead nodded slowly. "I need to know for certain what it is I can do, what kind of world I actually live in. Please."

"Well since you said please…"

Natasha followed as the other woman lead her down towards the basement. It was dark, and when the single overhead lightbulb flickered on it did little to cast aside the shadows. The room was entirely empty except for a single trapdoor that was situated in the middle of the basement. The spy had seen it the first time she had come in but had found no way to open it no matter how hard she yanked on the handle.

Yoruichi bent over and hauled up the heavy looking panel by its rusty iron hinges, barely having to strain despite using only one hand.

The Russian frowned. There had to be some trick to it.

The beginning of a ladder could be seen over the empty space, and when the spy bent over to peer down she was shocked to see that it led down into a brightly lit cavernous space that had to take up nearly ten times the area of Ichigo's home.

"After you," Yoruichi intoned with a mocking hand gesture.

Natasha scowled at the irritating woman and began to climb down.

 **AN: So if this is looking a bit familiar, well maybe because it is. No Avengers yet, I know I know. Patients, I'll get there. Let me know what's on your mind after reading this!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Sorry guys, been a while. Been an exciting two months for me, finished school and landed a full time job (no more bouncing between two part time T.T). Here's the next chapter, feels a bit unpolished but that's probably true of most of this story lol Let me know what you guys think! As always if you see any glaring mistakes grammar or plot wise, please let me know.**

Natasha fought the urge to pinch herself as she examined the cavernous underground room that Ichigo had apparently somehow hidden beneath his house. He could give SHIELD tips for hiding things in plain sight. The brightly lit cavern must have been a mile in radius easily, the ceiling painted a very convincing clear blue to give an impression of the open sky, tricking the eyes into believing that they were actually in fact outdoors rather than underground.

The artificial setting was rather off putting given that she had just climbed down a massive ladder to get here, the rocky outcrops mimicking the open plains you might find out in the central parts of the North American continent. Hell, there were even tumbleweeds! The ball shaped dead plants rolled about like it was some western movie set, which begged the question of what generated the wind that was pushing the dry vegetation around?

The light source could not be pinpointed, but it certainly felt natural, and the sizable lake glimmered with the cleanliness of open water unlike the chlorine blue you might find in a backyard pool. Natasha wouldn't be surprised if there were actual fish in the false pond. There was even what appeared to be a hot spring in one corner of the cave judging by the rising steam from the heated pool.

"How the hell did he set up all this without anyone noticing?" Natasha asked Yoruichi in amazement.

The dark skinned woman who had followed her down was currently dipping a toe in the hot spring, swirling the water about, giving the redhead time to adapt to the environment.

"We're not actually underground," Yoruichi explained nonchalantly, a hand resting on her hip. "This is a pocket dimension that happens to have its entrance in his cellar. You could say this room is its own mini universe."

The spy turned to stare at the other woman. Natasha couldn't decide whether or not the cat woman was messing with her.

"You're going to have me believe this is all real and that the hole in the sky we just came down from is the entryway to another dimension?" the Russian asked skeptically.

Yoruichi shrugged. "Believe what you want, but that's not why we're here though."

Natasha put the questions she had forming on her lips aside. No, indeed it was not. She was here to find answers.

"So talk," the spy demanded with her arms crossed. "I'm listening."

The tanned woman stared at the spy with considering eyes. "There's no point telling you more than you already know if you don't plan to do anything about it. So my question to you is how far are you willing to go to find the answers you want? Are you willing to risk your life? Your soul? I'm not joking here; there's a good chance you'll really might end up dead or worst."

The redhead stared back in determination. Ichigo had refused to give her answers so far, but this strange woman was willing to give her what she wanted at a cost. Nothing in life was for free. For anyone else it might have been an unreasonable price, but Natasha had played the life and death game too much to even hesitate.

"I am," she said bluntly. "I know far too much to sleep well at night, but what I don't know is worse. My job is to risk my life for answers; I'll take whatever risks are necessary to get what I want."

Yoruichi smiled a wide grin that showed off perfectly straight pearly teeth with oversized canines. It might have been mistaken for friendly, but there was nothing friendly about her amber eyes.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the Shinigami chuckled as she pulled on a single red glove with a skull surrounded by blue flames etched onto the backside of the fabric.

Yoruichi's movement was far too quick for Natasha to even catch a glimpse of, one second she was standing and the next the spy found herself crashing painfully onto her back, the Shinigami's hand gripping her by the width of her forehead.

Natasha instinctively lashed out at the unexpected assault, coiling up her legs and kicking out, but the dark skinned woman danced backwards deftly before the kick could connect.

Snarling the Russian struggled to her feet, wondering why her body suddenly felt so heavy. She froze when her eyes caught sight of what Yoruichi was standing next to.

People always talked about surreal out of body experiences, sometimes in connection with traumatic events where they felt like they were witnessing everything unfold from a third person perspective. There were many stories of when people had their life hanging on the balance and they swore they had witnessed the mad scramble to resuscitate their dying bodies, describing what took place with astonishing detail for someone who had been medically dead.

Natasha was experiencing one such out of body experience, except she was quite conscious as she observed the prone form of her own body that was currently being stepped on by Yoruichi.

"There are two ways we can go about this," the Shinigami said while casually using Natasha's body as a footstool. "The slow old fashion way of trying to get you in tune with your reiatsu and then eventually drawing it out through practice. Too much time investment for you or I and no guarantee of success even if we tried. The second method is to do what I did just now, separate your soul from your body."

The redhead swallowed thickly, glancing down at her chest and seeing the chain that all ghosts had. The length of metal stretched from her ghostly form all the way to the prone body lying on her back.

"I see you've noticed the chain of fate binding you to the world of the living," Yoruichi said with a nod. "You know what it is?"

"Ghosts all have them," Natasha replied slowly, gathering what little she knew as she stood. "The chain slowly degrades over time and when they vanish altogether the ghost turns into a hollow."

"Very good," the Shinigami praised. "The chain is a representation of their link to the world of the living. Your chain is still attached because it's acting as an anchor to your body."

The dark skinned woman gave a sinister smile the single expression sending a chill down Natasha's spine. Raising her hand, Yoruichi smashed a balled fist into the chain, obliterating the links connecting the spectral spy to her body.

Natasha's mouth dropped open in shock at the unexpected action. "What did you do?!"

Yoruichi straightened up. "Relax. For most humans, having their chain broken means they're dead. Their body can't survive without a soul attached to it. For people with abnormally high reiatsu, their bodies can survive for a short period even with the link severed, giving you time to merge your soul back to flesh. The more reiatsu you have, the longer the period of separation without fatal consequences."

The Shinigami tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Given what I can sense from you, I'd say you have a five maybe six hour time frame before your body expires and you're stuck as a ghost permanently."

Natasha's heart was still hammering, but she forced her nerves down, reminding herself that she had asked for this.

The caramel skinned woman took a step forward, casually kicking aside the broken chain of fate. "So we're going to play a game Natasha. You're going to try to get past me by whatever means possible so that you can get back to the world of the living. If you fail, you stay dead and I send you off to the afterlife, and I think we both know which gate will be appearing to collect you."

"How is this supposed to help?!" Natasha demanded angrily. "I can barely move!"

Yoruichi shrugged carelessly. "You're in your spiritual form right now, if you can't figure out how to tap your reiatsu and use your powers like this then there's almost no hope of you learning in your physical form. As a teacher I've always been a believer in the sink or swim approach, so starting swimming if you don't want to die."

Cursing under her breath at the purple haired woman, Natasha began to limber up, testing to see the limits of her soul form. Her limbs felt like lead. Her breath came short and shallow as if she were on top of a very high mountain. Nothing she couldn't adapt to, but the question was could she keep up with Yoruichi?

"That's a good idea," the female Shinigami remarked dispassionately. "Take some time to get used to moving around as a soul, but not too much time; clocks ticking. I'm mostly guessing at how much time you've got. Maybe you have more, maybe less. Better hurry if you don't want this to be a permanent arrangement."

Snarling the spy gathered herself and charged forward, fist cocked back.

 **\\******* ! ******* SCENE BREAK ******* ! *******\**

Ichigo climbed down the ladder, careful to makes sure he had three limbs on hard surface at any time. People who made the mistake of climbing quickly usually ended up hurt, or dead. The former Shinigami might be dying, but he sure as hell wasn't going to go out by falling to his death. He'd never heard the end of it if he did.

Spotting Yoruichi, he meandered over to his lover, casting an interested look at the prone form of Natasha Romanoff. The pretty redhead looking extremely pale, her chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath it periodically took.

"She doesn't look too good," he commented as he sidled up next to the kunoichi. "How long have you two been at it?"

The dark skinned Shinigami turned and gave her man a passionate kiss before returning her attention to the soul form of the spy struggling to lift her body off the ground a good distance away.

"Almost five hours now," she murmured casting a wary eye at the pale body next to her.

"You should probably call it quits before she's actually dead," Ichigo advised. "She doesn't look like she has much left in her."

A smirk formed on Yoruichi's lips.

"Oh I don't know Ichigo," she replied, golden eyes fixed on the woman who was glaring determinedly back at her. "She might surprise you."

Ichigo's eyebrows shot up at the unexpected spike in reiatsu from the spy. Black shadows surged up from the shade cast by her body, rapidly encasing her form in inky armor, similar to what he had witnessed the night Ishida had used the hollow bait to poke at her dormant abilities.

The odd black suit was form fitting, one smooth black fabric that stretched from her feet to her neck with not a single break to be found. As he watched, strands of black sticky material crawled up her jaw, streaking across her face like cancer, finally shrouding her entire body.

"Can you see her at all?" the former Shinigami substitute asked his lover curiously.

Yoruichi had shed her gigai and was currently in her natural state, with no physical eyes to observe Natasha's form. There was no reiatsu signature being emanated by the redhead, a rather astounding feat for someone who had just recently learned of its existence. Natasha may as well have been a rock if he weren't able to see her with his eyes.

"Just barely," Yoruichi said out of the corner of her mouth as Natasha stalked towards her. "At a distance she may as well be invisible, but if I know where she is when she first puts that damned armor on I can track her movements if I focus. She still makes noise when she moves, and I can feel her motions if I fill the area with my reiatsu and judge based on the way she's pushing it aside. It's almost like fighting an outline of a person, just glimpses of her body. I think the only reason why I can is that she doesn't have a very good handle on her powers yet, but once she does…"

Ichigo frowned. That was a rather scary thought. Against spiritual beings, Natasha would be the perfect assassin. Suppressing reiatsu was considered a high level skill, most who could tended to have very good control over their spiritual energy. But no matter how good they were at hiding their presence, it was a skill that was only effective at a distance. Close proximity made it impossible not to sense someone. Natasha's ability was quite unique, something he'd never run into or heard about before.

The two women charged at one another, their movements lightning fast. Yoruichi wasn't using shunpo to give Natasha a chance at fighting back, but the spy was moving far faster than any human could with the aid of her shadow armor. It seemed the shadow armor did more than hide her presence, it also augmented her movements well beyond human limits.

As fists and feet flew between the two fighters, the black patches around Natasha's hands warped, forming long arm length blades. Yoruichi's hands darted into the pouch she kept at her waist, withdrawing a kunai in each hand to deflect the sharp weapons swiping at her.

They exchanged blows, the spy unable to score any hits while her armor shrugged off any strikes from the Shinigami's throwing knives.

The spy suddenly switched tactics, charging forward and grabbing the Shinigami in a bear hug. The unexpected tactic worked, caramel skinned woman silently swore to herself for letting her guard down. There was a momentary scuffle, and Natasha's dark form seem to expand and ooze over Yoruichi.. A second later and Natasha had slipped out of her armor, leaving her dark skinned woman trapped in the dark sphere that had encompassed her.

The redhead stumbled towards her own body, making it two steps past the black statue before she turned, sensing the spike in reiatsu. Cracks began to appear in the dark obelisk holding Yoruichi in place, and with each pulse of energy pieces began to chip off. Finally the shadow could no longer hold back the Shinigami, exploding into a thousand fragments with one final pulsation.

"Not bad," complimented Yoruichi blithely. "Not bad at all. You're starting to think outside the box, but you'll need to do a lot better than that to put one over me."

Natasha swore, summoning up the last dregs of her reserves and pulling on the shadow armor once more. The cool black armor felt comforting as it slithered up her form, soothing her aches and pains as it encased her in its protective substance. Against anyone else the spy might have felt unbeatable, but Yoruichi had dissuaded that notion of invincibility very early on.

They continued to clash, Natasha desperately trying to score a hit on the dark skinned woman while Yoruichi continued to dance just outside of the human woman's reach. The Shinigami's own strikes were lazy in Ichigo's eyes, certainly not even a fraction of what the Goddess of the Flash Step was capable of, but it was still impressive that Natasha was able to keep up.

"I'll go make dinner," he called out, tired of watching the stalemate.

"I want salmon!" Yoruichi called out excitedly, completely taking her attention off the fight but still somehow able to dodge the dangerous blades swiping at her face.

"Of course you do," Ichigo grumbled with a roll of his eyes.

She always wanted salmon. Damn cat.

After the man had vanished back upstairs, Yoruichi tired of the current deadlock. Drawing on her reiatsu, she gave a yell, smashing her balled fist into Natasha's stomach. The powerful blow swatting aside the spy's hastily thrown up guard like it wasn't even there.

The black armor shattered, a thousand midnight shards raining down on the floor. The human woman was thrown backwards by the powerful blow, now fully exposed again without her shadow protecting her. She lay on her side, body screaming in pain as she coughed crimson onto the ground.

Yoruichi crouched by the unmoving woman's body, prodding her form to see if she could get a reaction.

Natasha tried to swipe at the hand that was harassing her tortured body, but could only make an odd twitch of her limb. Groaning she turned her face away from the amused expression of her tormentor.

"Well it looks like you've finally reached your limit Natasha," Yoruichi said, straightening back up. "Honestly I'm impressed, I didn't think you'd be able to last half as long as you did."

Turning the Shinigami sauntered away with a flick of her dark violet hair.

"Wa-wait-!" Natasha croaked out painfully. "M-my bo-bod-body."

Yoruichi turned and gave her an amused look. "You've got a few minutes left before you're dead. Better hustle if you want to make it back to the world of the living. We'll be upstairs waiting for you. I'll come back after dinner and send you on if you don't make it."

The spy spat vicious curses at her whimsical teachers back, slowly forcing her limbs to follow her commands. She began the long painful crawl to save her life.

 **\\******* ! ******* SCENE BREAK ******* ! *******\**

It took her almost ten minutes to cover the few meters of dirt separating her from her body. When she finally opened her eyes again, her physical body felt no better, and it took a moment to realize that she had actually made it. Natasha had over trained her body plenty of times before, painfully familiar with the sore aches and pains of overtaxed muscles. It felt like she'd been hit by a truck and then forced to run a marathon afterwards.

She lay on her back for the first few minutes, simply enjoying the modest task of breathing before gathering what stamina she had left. The climb up the ladder had been a struggle for her worn body, but the thought of punching the smug dark skin woman in the face for putting her through this gave her limbs strength.

When the spy got back to the house the home was filled with the alluring smell of seared fish, the air tantalizing with the scent of herbs mixed with melted fat. Natasha's mouth watered as she limped up from the basement, her worn body screaming for food despite having done nothing but lay there for the past six hours.

The spy stumbled towards the kitchen, and growled when she ran into Yoruichi in the hallway.

Once more, the dark skinned woman was absolutely naked, her exposed form slightly damp from the shower she had just taken. One hand was absentmindedly drying her long purple hair with a white towel, the other combing through the locks to untangle them.

"Oh you made it," the Shinigami said nonchalantly as she eyed the battered form of her protégée. "Good for you."

"No need to sound so disappointed," Natasha huffed, using the wall as a crutch.

Just a few more steps and that smug bitch's face would be within striking range.

Yoruichi shouldered past her into the kitchen, unknowingly thwarting the spy's vengeful plan.

"Ichigo!" the naked woman exclaimed happily, snuggling up to the man currently attending to the cooking fish over the stove.

He grunted in response, not turning away from his task despite his nude girlfriend nuzzling his neck.

The woman pouted at her lover's lack of response, shooting Natasha an annoyed look.

"You! Shoo! You're making Ichigo shy, and I wanna have sex in the kitchen before I eat my fish!"

The Russian spluttered in indignation, not sure exactly what she wanted to respond to more at the moment.

"Dinner's almost ready," Ichigo said without turning around, completely ignoring Yoruichi.

The Shinigami puffed out her cheeks, but let it go. Moving over to the fridge, she draped the towel she had been using to dry her hair over the back of a chair, reaching into the icebox to pull out a pair of beers.

"Here," Yoruichi said, pitching a can over to Natasha. "I suppose you've earned that."

Natasha raised her hands up to catch the thrown object thrown at her, but her strained muscles caused her to fumble the easy toss.

Yoruichi laughed as the beer clattered on the ground. "Fail!"

"Bitch!" the spy growled out, stooping over slowly with aching back muscle to retrieve the fallen can.

She'd shoot herself in the foot before admitting it to the dark skinned woman, but the ice cold beer tasted heavenly at the moment.

"Foods done," Ichigo announced, turning to begin placing the finished dishes at the dining table that rarely saw use. "Why don't you go put some clothes on? It's only polite."

Snorting Yoruichi departed from the kitchen, muttering about humans and not understanding what was wrong with nudity and how he didn't seem to mind the last time she ate naked in the kitchen.

"She always like that?" Natasha asked as she collapsed into the closest seat.

Ichigo chuckled. "For as long as I've known her."

The spy eagerly stabbed into her salmon steak, her famished hunger breaking any sense of polite etiquette. Who knew pure bliss could be found on a plate?

"How rude," sniffed Yoruichi as she joined Natasha at the table. "You're supposed to wait for everyone before you start eating you know!"

The dark skinned beauty was clad in a pair of loose black boxers that obviously belonged to Ichigo, her top covered with an energetic pink t-shirt one sized too small that had the words Kitty printed boldly across the chest, emphasizing her generous cleavage.

Natasha swallowed another bite, making a rude gesture with her hand at her teacher.

Ichigo joined the table and the three began to eat, Yoruichi chatting away animatedly while the doctor answered in grunts and monosyllables.

Finally, the spy had more than her stomach could handle and she pushed the plate away from her.

"So besides trying to kill me, was there a point to all that?" she asked, gesturing at the basement. "Cause I don't feel any different, and I still can't do the things I did as a soul. I tried."

Yoruichi snorted. "Well of course not, you're back in your body aren't you? Most of your reiatsu's back doing what it normally does, keeping you alive. But I think you should be able to feel your reiatsu now right?"

"Feel it?" Natasha asked in confusion. "No everything's still the same."

"It's like reaching for the spirit ribbons, except you turn that sense inwards rather than outwards," Ichigo explained as Yoruichi cracked open a second can of beer.

The redhead frowned, concentrating as she focused her senses. Spirit ribbons began to appear, inching towards her as she struggled to turn that feeling inwards. She absentmindedly noted that both Ichigo and Yoruichi had bright red ribbons. Did that designate them as Shinigami? She filed away that observation for later examination.

Finally after sitting in silence listening to Yoruichi badger Ichigo about visiting Japan, Natasha felt it. A spark inside her that she had not noticed before.

Her soft gasp was met with a knowing nod from Ichigo and an eye roll from Yoruichi.

"About time," the caramel skinned woman grumbled. "Now that you can feel it in your body, the next step would be to practice externalizing it. Once you can do that you should be able to call up that weird shadow power of yours. Rest of it is just like any other skill, practice until you get better."

"How do I go about externalizing it?" Natasha asked with a frown.

Yoruichi stood up, gesturing at Natasha to do the same. The spy followed the other woman to the doorway, scowling when the Shinigami opened it and jerked her head out into the evening.

"Come back tomorrow, I'll have some exercise for you to try then. Now get out. I haven't seen my boyfriend in months and you're interrupting sexy time."

Rolling her eyes, the spy limped out the doorway. She headed towards her apartment, determined to get some rest before coming back to learn more. The spark she had felt in herself was a warm feeling, causing her to smile unconsciously.

She reached out for that spark, drawing it towards her center and watched as the shadow around her arm twitched and solidified into a black gauntlet with wicked curved hooks at the end of her fingertips. She flexed the digits of her hand, noting that despite the angular form of the gauntlet they made no sound.

Natasha smirked. Clint was going to lose his shit when she showed him.

 **AN: So, Natasha starts to grasp her powers. Avengers story starts next chapter! Stay tuned, and tell me what you guys think! I love hearing back from my readers.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Hello, I'm back. Please leave me your thoughts and comments, even if it is just to point out an error I made somewhere. Enjoy!**

Natasha had to fight hard to keep the smile off her face. As one of the world's premier spies, if she had any weakness at all it was her feelings of pride on a job well done. It bordered on conceit, even she could admit that. But when you stand at the summit of your field, the prime example others brought up when comparison was needed, your pride is less hubris and more fact.

Everything had gone exactly as she had arranged. Like good little marionettes, her targets had danced along willingly into the palm of her hands. Of course it wouldn't do to let her "captors" know that this was all going according to her plan.

For anyone else in the world, being tied to a chair in a dark abandoned warehouse in a former Soviet satellite state well known for its shady mobsters and legions of ruthless underworld crime bosses would hardly be considered going to plan. The spy found herself several floors up from the ground, she hadn't seen much of the building due to the burlap bag they had put over her head when they had brought her in.

The building smelled of mold and rust, an odd combination of zinc and organic decay. Old abandoned furniture caked thick with dust littered the surrounding, a cracked full length mirror being the first thing that caught her eye when they had removed the bag over her head.

Besides the dubious surroundings, there was also the fact that there were three men leering at her slightly undressed form. That made it even harder to believe that anything was under control, but she was the Black Widow.

These fools were already dead; they just didn't know it yet.

Natasha had poured herself into a slinky black dress for her evening out, the silky material barely passing off as decent due to how it hugged and clung to every curve on her body, leaving little to the imagination. A less classy woman would have been mistaken for a prostitute in that sort of outfit, but Natasha had worn it like a queen's regal outfit. Confidence was just as important as sex appeal when it came to manipulating men.

The spy had decided against wearing panties and bras, suffering through a long night of ogling and one or two coped feels from her target, which was more self-restraint than most men probably had in them. Despite the leers and pats to her bare rear, Natasha had endured it all with grace and dignity. Up until now anyways, even she couldn't pull off elegance when tied to a chair after having spent half an hour in the back of a car's trunk.

Currently she found herself tied to a rickety wooden chair, her hands bound behind the seat. Of course the idiots hadn't tied her feet to the legs of the chair, so she still had quite a bit of mobility. It wouldn't be much of a challenge if it came down to fisticuffs.

But the redhead wasn't here for a fight, she was here for information. The Black Widow had gained her fame in the espionage field not solely through her combat skills, though certainly she would be one of the most skilled in her profession. No, what made Natasha deadly as a infiltrator was her ability to slip into any role given to her. She could pass herself off as someone from all walks of life, easily charming, seducing or threatening even the most well kept secrets out of unwitting marks.

Currently, the master was busy at work despite how it might look to an untrained eye. It was almost too easy.

The eldest of the trio of men took a foreboding step towards her, his sinister expression promising pain. Former three-star general of the Ukrainian military turned weapons smuggler, Yaroslav Kazimierz cut an intimidating figure despite his advanced age. Standing slightly over six feet tall and built large enough to make a man in his prime think twice at crossing him, Yaroslav had made for a surprisingly pleasant date despite his lechery. That was before he had ordered her tied up and dumped in the back of his limousine.

Natasha had no idea where she had been taken, but she knew for a fact that the tracking implant buried in one of her false molars was transmitting her exact location to SHIELD headquarters. Doubtless Fury had commandeered a government satellite to provide detailed imagery over her current position and had an entire team of special forces waiting to bust the doors in on a given signal. Say what you will about the man's personality and ruthless operating methods, but the Director backed his field agents up with the best he could get his hands on, and the long arms of SHIELD got them the best of the best.

A train sounded in the distance, its warning horn a mournful wail of things to come. The setting would not have looked too far off from a movie set about mobsters and the criminal underworld, a scene the Russian woman was more than passingly familiar with.

The ringleader gave his henchmen a nod. The closest thug strode forward, expression filled with sadistic glee. Natasha relaxed her jaw, knowing from experience what was coming. Personally she preferred subtler methods herself when it came to information extraction, but sadly for most homegrown criminals and poorly trained terrorists, subtlety was at the bottom of their skillset.

The sound from the open handed slap resonated loudly in the abandoned warehouse, her ear registering an odd ring from the jarring blow. She had kept her neck loose and flexible, turning her head with the hit to minimize the damage, but even then it stung something fierce. Most people made the mistake of tensing up when they knew they were about to be hit. Resistance to oncoming impact tended to cause more damage, but it takes years of training and many bruises to break that reflexive habit.

The seasoned spy slowly turned back to face her victims, careful to place just enough fear in her expression to pass off being more than a regular civilian. They thought they had caught a spy; it wouldn't be very convincing if she broke down into a hysterical fit at the first sign of physical violence.

" _This was not how I wanted our evening to go,"_ commented Yaroslav with resignation.

He spoke to her in Russian, his thick accent indicating that while he had an impressive command of the language, it was most certainly not his native tongue.

" _I know how you wanted this evening to go,"_ Natasha replied evenly, ignoring the trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. " _Believe me, this is better."_

A cynical smile graced the old general's face. " _Who are you working for?"_

The other lackey stepped up, tilting the chair she was strapped to onto its hind legs, dangling her helplessly over the edge of the third floor. The illusion of danger only affected the men of course, even if she were to be tossed over Natasha had more than one way to save herself.

" _Lermentov yes?"_ The retired soldier paced restlessly before her, his expression thoughtful.

The creek of the spindly chair leg sounded ominously loud in the silence that followed the old general's question. Natasha took a quick peek over her shoulder for good measure before returning her wide eyed gaze back to the smirking thug.

" _Does he really think we have to go through him to move our cargo?"_ Yaroslav asked in disbelief.

The spy turned her eyes back on the ringleader. Her chair was eased back onto the floor at some wordless command.

" _I thought General Solohob is in charge of the export business,"_ she said carefully, injecting confusion into the pitch of her voice.

" _Solohob!"_ scoffed the elderly weapons dealer. " _A bagman, a front. Your outdated information betrays you."_

Natasha had already known that. In fact, SHIELD had the witless Solohob on a level 3 security cell back on the helicarrier. The man had spilled the beans on everything he knew when he had woken up from cocktail of drugs she had slipped into his drink. Solohob hadn't known much about his employer or any operations beyond his own; the only useful bit of information they managed to get out of him was Yaroslav's name.

Twelve hours after SHIELD had gotten Yaroslave's name out of their prisoner, Natasha had been seated across from the old general having a candle lit dinner halfway across the world.

The old man snorted, pacing agitatedly in front of her. _"The famous Black Widow, and she turns out to be simply another pretty face."_

A smirk threatened to make its way onto her face. " _You really think I'm pretty?"_

The old soldier gave a mirthless chuckle, turning away from her.

" _Tell Lermentov we don't need him to move the tanks,"_ Yaroslav said as he strode purposefully towards a metal stand.

The thug that had threatened to throw her off the third floor reached a dirty hand out and forced her mouth open by applying pressure from his fingertips against the mandible joints of her jaw. He leered down at her splayed lips, his unscrupulous thoughts an open book through the lustful gleam of his eyes.

" _Tell him he is out,"_ the old general spat.

He picked up a pair of plyers from the tray, giving the tool a few experimental squeezes. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked cruelly at the bound redhead.

"Well…you might have to write it down," he said in perfect English.

Natasha gave a desperate gasp, her panicked act absolutely flawless. Eyes darted between her captor and the plyers, her ample bosom heaving with each desperate breath she inhaled. There was even sweat building up on her skin, courtesy of limited control she had over her passive biological functions.

She was on roll, and if she were to be honest it was actually quite enjoyable. Clint always accused her of being a bit of a drama queen, something she vehemently denied. Having been forced to repress her emotions at a young age in order to survive her training, Natasha only allowed herself to express anything when she was working out in the field. Ironic that Natasha Romanoff wasn't allowed to be human, but the Black Widow was.

Her academy award worthy acting was interrupted by the sharp ring of a cellphone.

All eyes turned to glower at the offending henchmen.

"Really?" asked Yaroslav in disbelief. "Boris…"

"Sorry boss," the now named henchman said sheepishly as he pulled out his cellphone.

The old general tapped his foot impatiently as his henchman took the call. There was a long awkward pause as the man listened to whatever was being said on the other end, his expression becoming increasingly confused.

"Well?" demanded the aged soldier.

The lackey hesitated a moment before shrugging and handing the phone towards his leader. "It's for her."

The old general stared at the proffered phone blankly before dropping the plyers back on the metal tray and snatching the phone out of his henchman's hand.

" _You listen carefully…!_ " he roared into the receiver.

The rest of his threat came to an abrupt halt. Natasha felt her eyebrows creep up her forehead as his face rapidly lost color at whatever was being said to him. This was not a part of her plan.

Yaroslav shot her an uncertain look before taking the device and pressing it up against her ear.

Hand still tied behind her back and to the chair, Natasha tilted her neck at an awkward angle in order to hold the phone in place.

The familiar voice of agent Coulson crackled through the cheap disposable cellphone. "We need you to come in."

"Are you kidding me?" she demanded. "I'm working here."

"This take precedence," he replied flatly.

"I'm in the middle of an interrogation, this moron is giving me everything!"

Said moron shared a confused look with his henchmen. "I don't give everything…"

Natasha shot the man an _are you fucking kidding me_ look. They wisely chose to shut up.

"Look," she said in exasperation. "You can't pull me out right now."

"Natasha," interrupted Coulson in his most serious tone. "Barton's been compromised."

Her heart plummeted into her stomach like a stone. Those three words had any number of meanings, none of them good. It all translated to the same thing. Her best friend, the man who had given her a second chance at life, was in deep trouble.

"Let me put you on hold," Natasha bit out tersely after a long pause.

The general reached for the phone. The spy's leg shot out like a spear, her bare foot ramming into the man's left knee with enough force to snap the joint with a wet squelch. She gave him a vicious head-butt to the nose for good measure as he fell forward with a pained yell.

Bouncing onto her toes she turned and rammed her shoulder into Boris who had bulled forward, sending the larger man reeling back from the tip of her humerus bone connecting painfully against his sternum, the audible crunch indicating that something had been broken. She twisted her body, smashing the legs of the seat she was still tied to into the second man, one of the four wooden legs breaking off from the contact and sending him sprawling onto his back.

Seeing the Boris recover and charge again, she pivoted on her bare soles, this time dropping backwards with her full weight on the hind two legs of the chair. Her timing was perfect, the two ends of the seat slamming like spikes onto the man's feet.

His howl of pain was cut short as the Black Widow smashed the back of her head into his mouth, knocking him unconscious. Spotting the remaining thug struggling to his feet, she performed an armless backflip, her entire weight along with the chair slamming into his rising body.

Unable to take any more abuse, the poorly cared for furniture simply disintegrated from the impact. Flipping onto her feet, she grabbed the groaning man by the jaw and gave it a vicious twist. The oddly wet sound of neck cartilage snapping echoed in the abandoned room.

As she stood up, the click of a handgun's hammer being cocked back reached her ears. Turning slowly, Natasha kept her face expressionless as she looked at the old general who had managed to struggle to a crouching position despite his broken knee and the river of blood pouring down over his mouth.

The Walther P99 pointed at her did not waiver despite the pain he must have been in, the seething hatred on his face unmistakable. She had seen it on the face of countless people, usually after having woken up in an interrogation cell she had thrown them into.

"You're dead bitch," spat Yaroslav. "Rot in hell!"

Natasha cocked her head to the side as she stared down the barrel of the 9 mm. There were any number of methods she could have used to get out of her current predicament, but she decided to go with something a little more interesting, something she had not yet had a chance to test out in the field.

The spy allowed a full thirty seconds to pass before she finally allowed the smirk that had been threatening to break out all night make its way to her rosy lips.

"Performance problems general?" she asked lightly, her cold eyes watching as the man's face turned red with exertion. "I hear it's not unexpected of men your age."

The old general stared at his hand in disbelief, the expression of betrayal on his face absolutely hilarious given that it was his own appendage he was gawking at.

"What is this!?"

The Black Widow took a step forward and watched in fascination as the man was forced onto his feet, his motion mirroring hers exactly despite the pain it must have caused him to stand on a broken limb.

"The answer, like so many things in life, is right in front of you," she said mockingly.

Yaroslav looked down at his feet and recoiled in shock when he saw the black mass of shadows that formed a connection between them. The black tendrils stretched out from her feet and extended all the way across the distance separating them, the natural shape of their shadows having merged together.

"What are you?!" he whispered in horror as he was forcefully marched until he was close enough to touch the redheaded spy.

The woman stared up thoughtfully into his face, raising her hands up to stretch languidly. The curiously predatory motion was parodied less gracefully by the larger man.

"I am many things I suppose," she replied with a tired smile. "But it is rude to ask a woman her secrets don't you know? But you were a decent enough date, so I will allow you the privilege of knowing one little thing about me."

Natasha turned the hand holding the gun until the barrel was resting gently against his temple. The old general struggled in futility to stop himself. His resistance slowed the deadly motion, but ultimately did nothing to prevent it.

"I'm your death," she whispered somberly.

"You're a monster!" he spat venomously. "A hell spawned whore! A cock sucking-!"

Whatever else he was about to call her was cut off with a twitch of her finger. The crack of the weapon reverberated loudly in the expansive room. The spy watched with morbid detachment as Yaroslav's head jerked slightly from the entry of the bullet into his skull, but otherwise remained in the same position despite being very much dead.

She relaxed her hand that had been miming holding the gun. The standing corpse dropped the weapon onto the floor with a clatter. Cutting off her reiatsu to her shadow, the connection between them broke and withdrew back into its normal shape. Yaroslav collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, tumbling to the floor in a bloody heap.

Natasha stooped down and picked up the gun, ejecting the magazine to check how many rounds remained. The redhead paused to pick up the heels they had inexplicably kept for her, using the fingers of her free hand to hook onto the ankle straps of her six inch stilettos.

Almost as an afterthought she put two round into the unconscious Boris for good measure, leaving her the only living witness to what happened here. Carelessly tossing the gun aside, she snatched up the cellphone that had been dropped in her brief tussle with the three hapless weapons smugglers.

"Phil, what the hell happened?" she demanded as she padded bare foot towards the exit.

 **AN: So for those of you who watched the movie, you might recognize this as Natasha's introduction scene. I actually rewatched that clip on youtube to get the dialogue and most the sequences as close to the original as possible, but as you can tell I gave it a darker ending. Avengers was a fun family summer movie, but I feel like Natasha's story line is much darker than her other teammates, and I will continue to write in this direction. And yes, I did steal the shadow bind from Shikamaru. Hope you enjoyed this short update, please leave me your thoughts. Until next time!**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Hello my dear readers, been a while hasn't it? Thanks for all the reviews, an extra-long chapter as an apology for the wait. Let me know what you guys think, this story is still chugging along despite the infrequent updates. Thanks for your continued support of my story! Let me know what you guys think.**

Natasha sat sullenly at a grubby wooden table that had definitely seen better days, barely taking in her surroundings. It had been just under eight hours since she had found out that Clint had been turned by some outside force and instead of being outside hunting down her best friend like she wanted, she instead found herself halfway across the world in India of all places.

The home to the largest growing population on the planet was a place of contradictions. It boasted a great cultural heritage, intermingled with an unprecedented growth in technology coupled with some of the most poverty-stricken shantytowns in the world. A land where the concept of tradition and family honor was as important as life blood, yet corruption ran as rampant as any disease that might be found in the slums.

The spy had been to the birthplace of Hinduism before; normally she was rather fond of the culturally diverse nation with its heavily spice laden food and bustling streets. Her pale skin made her stick out like a sore thumb, so rare was the opportunity for her to take a mission in India. Perhaps that was why she recalled her time in India so fondly; she rarely had to kill anyone here.

But for once she was here on business rather than pleasure.

The whole incident with the Asgardian god of mischief bursting out of the Tesseract and subsequently stealing said Tesseract, was a signal for the start of a war humanity wasn't quite ready for. Luckily Nick Fury was one step ahead of the rest of the world and had a master plan for just such an unexpected occurrence. That master plan was the reason why the Russian spy found herself playing shepherdess for a lost lamb rather than out chasing the bad guys and pounding in someone's skull.

Personally, she had her doubts, but orders were orders. One did not say no to Nick Fury without deadly consequence. Granted, Natasha was usually that consequence. She wondered briefly who would be sent to assassinate her if she ever did double cross the one-eyed man. There were only a handful of people in the world who could get the drop on her, and Clint was probably the only person on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s payroll.

The redhead had been briefed as she was flown into India, the hypersonic speed of the Quinjet making the trip half as long as it would have taken had she been in a regular military transport, or god forbid a civilian airplane. Comfort was probably the last thing on the Quinjet engineering teams list of necessities and very likely the first thing to be thrown out the door in the design phase.

Bruce Banner and his alter ego had a dossier that made for an interesting in flight read. The scientist had managed to elude capture for the past few years by living on the outskirts of civilization, keeping no technology on his person and spending only cash when he wasn't living on the handouts of those he had helped. While that was good enough to throw off most the American agencies tasked with tracking the man and most foreign agencies, it wasn't enough to fool S.H.I.E.L.D.

In fact, .E.L.D. was part of the reason why Banner had been able to keep off the radar so easily. The man was good, but he wasn't that good. Of course, the spy agency had an ulterior motive for helping the modern-day Dr. Jekyll. A cornered Banner usually meant billions in property damage and plenty of body bags to go around. That made for a bad day for a lot of people, least of all those who end up in the body bags.

To this day no one could claim to have successfully contained the man's emerald counterpart. The only effective solution when taking on the Hulk was to evacuate everyone within a ten-mile radius, let the beast take its rage out on some buildings and other inanimate objects and wait for it to take off into the wilderness. Shitting your pants while you wait it out isn't required, but most people end up doing it anyways.

The few theoretical devices S.H.I.E.L.D. had on hand were untested, and for the most part it's inventors prayed profusely that they would stay that way. No one knew of the Hulk's true limits, and the fool who wanted to find out had been mindwiped and reinserted into civilian life on the Director's orders after he could not be talked down. Despite millions of dollars thrown at R&D, no one could confidently say they had a solution to the greatest living manmade disaster to date.

That said Nick Fury didn't want the risk that some country did manage to figure out a way to contain the man and potentially gain access to a walking weapon of mass destruction. And on the off chance they needed to locate the scientist, it was much easier to already know where he was rather than having to waste the time and resource needed to track down a man determined to stay off the grid.

Perhaps that had been the right call, after all Natasha was here waiting to talk to the man himself to see if she could convince him to come in and help them out with their little missing Tesseract problem.

Her sensitive ears picked up the soft patter of a child's bare feet through the sound of distant night traffic; India was a country that never truly slept, and it was easy to become lost to the constant white noise of so much humanity packed into one location. A good spy learned to keep an ear out for unusual noises in such a situation, and Natasha was who the good spies in the world tried to learn from.

Standing up, the Black Widow smoothed out the earth toned sari she wore. With practiced motion, she checked on the blades hidden by the thigh holsters and briefly touched the gun hidden beneath the shabby table. None of those weapons would do her any good if Banner were to lose his temper, but it settled her nerves somewhat to feel like she was prepared.

Of course, the question was, how do you prepare to confront a man capable of ripping you limb from limb?

Unbidden an image of Ichigo tearing a monstrous hollow in two with his bare hands came to mind. She gave a slight smile as she recalled confronting that man in his own living room.

On a whim, Natasha reached her senses out, pulling on the power that she had learned to tap into from the Japanese doctor. The familiar dizzying cloud of white spiritual stripes sharpened into focus. Surprise colored her features as she caught sight of the dark emerald streaked strip wavering in the room full of pristine white spiritual cloths.

It was mostly white, but here and there it was tainted with dark toxic green splotches that seemed to grow and shrink at random intervals. The mesmerizing lava lamp motions of the infected parts was hypnotizing to look at. It seemed that Dr. Banner's little anger problem might have some spiritual component to it. That might explain why science had been of no help to the unfortunate man.

The young Indian girl she had paid to lure Banner to their current location in the remote outskirts of town darted into the room. Her inquisitive dark brown eyes shot Natasha a nervous look, pausing momentarily to see if she would receive more instructions. The former KGB spy tossed the girl a wad of rupees, a bonus for a job well done before nodding once at the open window.

The girl scrambled up the shelf and out the opening just as a disheveled looking man stumbled in through the entrance.

Bruce Banner looked almost nothing like his photo in the dossier. Gone was the cheerful handsome man who was once a rising star of the physicist world, replaced by an older more weathered individual whose face was guarded and reserved. His clothing had the dusty look of a man who had traveled far, and the odor that clung to his body suggested he hadn't seen a bath in quite a while.

His face was weather beaten and tanned, his hair a wild muss that desperately needed a barber's attention. The five 'clock shadow on his face was a permanent fixture that complemented well the exhaustion suggested by the dark bags under his eyes.

Banner watched with little emotion as the girl who had led him to this trap escape through the open window. He removed his glasses, folding them up and hooking them onto a breast pocket before blowing out a breath and running a hand through his hair.

"Should have got paid up front Banner," he muttered sardonically.

"You know for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle," Natasha said as way of greeting, careful to step into the light slowly so as not to alarm her mark.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret," the rumpled man replied as he turned to examine her as one might examine an animal one wasn't sure was dangerous or not.

There was almost a wry amusement to his expression as he stepped further into the room.

"Then what is it?" the redhead asked, playing along with his nonchalant attitude, circling around to keep the table between them. "Yoga?

Banner turned and shot a quick shrewd look over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the woman before him. The self-deprecating expression hadn't left his face. Despite his outwardly calm demeanor, his hands had begun to wring together in a less than tranquil manner.

"You brought me to the edge of the city," he observed, stepping sideways to keep his back away from the windows and entrance as he spoke. "Smart."

He edged over to a gap in the wall and peered out into the darkness, careful to keep as little of himself as exposed as possible. "I assume the whole place is surrounded?"

"It's just you and me," Natasha replied reassuringly, stepping closer and keeping her hands out to show that there was nothing to fear.

"And your actress? She a spy too?" he asked with a jerk of his chin towards the open window. "They start them that young?"

Natasha gave her classic alluring smile, one that had disarmed countless men who later came to regret it. It was the kind of smile that spoke of hidden promises without a single word needed to be spoken, the sort of smile that set a man's soul alight with desire.

Banner stared back unblinkingly, pious as a monk this one.

Shrugging an exposed creamy shoulder carelessly, the redhead met his gaze fearlessly.

"I did," she whispered softly.

Banner stayed on the opposite side of the table, observing her with lidded eyes. For a man who had just been led into a trap, he was surprisingly collected, giving little of his inner thoughts away even to a master interpreter of body language like Natasha.

"Who are you?" Banner finally asked.

Although it was a question in words, the inflection in his voice was off. He was asking to be socially polite, but it was obvious to the spy that the man didn't care for an actual answer. He was just going through the motions.

Perhaps his apathy was the reason for her slip up, but for whatever reason Natasha gave him an honest answer instead of one of her usual aliases.

"Natasha Romanoff."

"Are you here to kill me Ms. Romanoff?" he asked in a detached fashion. "Because that's probably not going to work out. For everyone."

Her pulse skipped at the man's blunt statement, knowing exactly what he was referring to. She didn't need him jumping to conclusions and Hulking out on her before she could even get to the point of the meeting. Time to bring out those diplomacy lessons.

"No, no, I'm just here to talk Dr. Banner," Natasha replied immediately trying to reassure the man.

"So, who you working for?" he asked casually. "CIA? FBI? KGB? MIB?"

He chuckled at the last one.

"None of the above," Natasha replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him flirtatiously, capitalizing on his unexpected levity to try to deescalate the situation. "Although you're a man that's anything but small when you're green."

The twitch at the corner of his lip belayed an emotion that stirred beneath the surface of the seemingly calm man. She would have to be careful with this dance, one wrong step and she was going to be stomped flat rather than massaging an aching foot.

"I work for an organization that has been watching you for a very long time Dr. Banner. You've done surprisingly well in covering your tracks for a man who has not had espionage training. We helped clean up some things you missed."

"Thanks?" A mocking smile crossed his face. "I'm assuming you're here to cash in on that favor I didn't ask for."

The redhead chuckled softly at how he had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. "Our world is in danger Dr. Banner, we have need for a man of your talent. The world has need for you."

Banner snorted, leaning over the table and rapping his knuckles sharply on the wooden surface.

"I've heard that one plenty of times before. The Chinese, the Koreans, the Russians, hell even the Israelis. They've all made similar offers of clemency and aid for my 'special' condition. Well I don't buy it! I won't be anyone's weapon Ms. Romanoff; you can go tell your masters that if they want the other guy so badly, they'll have to come down here and get him themselves."

Natasha fought back a frown. That little tidbit had not been in any of their reports, although perhaps Fury hadn't given her full access to Banner's files. She wouldn't put it past the Director to do such a thing, he'd done it in the past. But on the off chance that he hadn't, someone had dropped the ball badly if they didn't notice agents from four separate countries approaching to make offers to the scientist. She'd have to follow up on this once things settled down.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood," she said pleasantly. "We have need for Bruce Banner the man with the PhD, not the Hulk."

"Me?" he asked in astonishment, unable to conceal his surprise at the unexpected revelation.

Reaching out to the phone on the table, Natasha opened it by pressing her thumb against the state of the art security scanner. The screen lit up, displaying an image of the Tesseract and a laundry list of readings that had been taken by sensors prior to the object being stolen. Most of it was gibberish to Natasha, but she could tell by the way Banner's eyes narrowed that it meant something to him.

"We fished that out of the sea a couple months back," she said.

They had found another surprise along with the glowing blue power cube, one of the super soldier variety. Everyone knew the heroic story of Steve Rogers giving his life to help defeat the Nazis during World War II. Only a chosen few knew the whole story, which made the man even more impressive than the propaganda made him out to be.

The Black Widow slid the phone over to the scientist, sharp eyes missing nothing as Banner donned the glasses he had in his shirt pocket to examine the device. The bait had been placed on the hook and the line cast. Now to see if she got a bite.

"The readings on this thing is impossible," he muttered under his breath as he flicked through the reports with rapid swiping motions.

With each swipe his eyes narrowed further. Even just observing him from across the table Natasha could practically see his mind moving as it processed the information he was taking in.

"If these scans are real, this thing must have as much energy as a star stored in it!" he exclaimed in amazement. "How on earth could it be solid?"

"That thing," Natasha said with careful injection of heavy regret in her voice, "was stolen from us by foreign agents about 18 hours ago, which is why we need your help tracking it down. I'm told you're probably one of the few people on the planet with the knowledge on how we might go about doing this in a timely manner."

"Who are you people?" he asked with a glare over the rim of his glasses.

He tossed the phone irately onto the table. "I'm not helping anyone until I know who you are and what your intentions are for that object. We're talking about something that could change human history here. Hell, its very existence has already unequivocally changed our fundamental understanding of the universe!"

"That object happens to be in the hands of some very bad people," Natasha replied quietly, smoothly deflecting from the question of who she worked for. "We're trying to secure it to make sure that history changing event doesn't take place."

"Bad guy is a term relative to which side of the gun barrel you're on," Banner countered coolly with a heated glare. "So, I'll ask again. Who are you working for?"

Natasha allowed her smile to drop a degree as she detected the subtle beginnings of hostility. The scientist might still be arguing like he was on the college debate team, but the subtle widening of his stance and slight tensing of his shoulders indicated he was unconsciously preparing to fight. Time to give some ground if she didn't want him clamping up.

The spy in her wanted to resist giving away as much information as possible; information was power in her world. But survival instincts won out in this case. Banner wasn't someone you wanted raising his voice at you.

"I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistic Division. We're not tied to any one nation, but backed by a large number of countries that recognize that some threats extend beyond borders and jurisdictions. A policing organization that can cross lines and deal with certain problems without red tape getting in the way is sometimes necessary in a world that is becoming more global."

"Someone really wanted to be able to call your organization S.H.I.E.L.D. huh?" Banner sniggered. "You're still not answering my question about your intentions though."

"We work to protect the world Mr. Banner-"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" he roared, bringing his hands down onto the table with a sudden and terrifying crunch.

Her heart skipped a beat and Natasha moved on reflex, body exploding into action from years of experience evading dangerous situations in the field. She had the gun out from beneath the table and pointed at Banner, her finger a twitch away from unloading a magazine full of 9mms into his face.

"I'm sorry," he apologized insincerely with a faux smile. "That wasn't very nice of me…I just wanted to see what you would do…"

The former physicist made to straighten up, but frowned when he found himself frozen in place. His muscles were visibly straining to obey his command to move, but his body remained hunched over the table, trembling as it fought against an invisible grip.

"Well now this is interesting," he murmured, curious eyes moving away from the barrel of her gun hold her gaze. "I don't know how you're holding me in place, but do you really think you can…hold…me…?"

Blue eyes flashed a deep unnatural green and his shirt swelled. His muscle seemed to squirm like a living thing, the fabric of his clothing straining to hold him back. The veins on the side of his neck bulged outwards, and his breathing became more ragged and shallow.

Natasha swallowed back a lump of anxiety in her throat as she felt her own arms move against her will, forced to inch upwards despite the shadow bind connection that could freeze a charging bull elephant in place. This was the first time she had caught someone of such considerable physical strength, she had not expected the shadow bind to work both ways.

"Dr. Banner," Natasha mustered out as gently as she could manage. "I'm going to let you go. But I need you to remain calm."

It was a hell of a gamble, but at the rate this conversation was going he was going to Hulk out and smash her either way, shadow bind or not. The pistol she was armed with might as well be a pellet gun for all the good it would do her, and the knives resting against her thigh suddenly felt horribly inadequate in the face of the transforming man before her.

The spy released her shadow, nearly groaning in relief as the pressure on her body lifted. Banner straightened up, panting heavily but eyes returning to its normal color. His keen gaze traced the retreating length of shadow with interest, although he still showed a level of disregard that was surprising for someone who had just been exposed to the supernatural.

"Neat trick," he said, wiping the sweat that had built up on his forehead with the back of his hand. "Must be a hit at parties. I'd show you mine, but it has the tendency to end the party."

Natasha raised a hand up to her ear piece, the almost invisible flesh colored communication device chirping noiselessly as she tapped it once with her index finger.

"Stand down," she ordered flatly.

The scientist shot an amused look out the window. "Just us huh?"

They might not have been able to see it, but dozens of heavily armed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents backed down from their ready positions. The rapid reaction security force Fury had insisted come along with the redhead had been seconds away from tearing the small shanty house apart with lethal gunfire.

"Will you help us Mr. Banner?" Natasha asked bluntly, ignoring the catastrophic confrontation that almost just happened.

"I'm guessing your boss wants my help tracking this device because of the trace amounts of gamma radiation it lets off. Am I right?"

Natasha shrugged. "I'm not privy to the Director's thoughts and the eggheads like to keep to themselves. I was told to retrieve you if at all possible and that you were a vital component to the operation to recover the Tesseract."

Banner sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I haven't done any scientific work of this caliber in years, surely there's someone better you can contact."

"My boss wants you," Natasha responded frankly. "He's willing to offer a lot in exchange for your cooperation."

"Oh yeah?" Banner asked skeptically. "Like what?"

"Whatever it is you want," she replied automatically, the lie coming easily enough. "Money. A new identity. Whatever it is you need."

The scientist laughed softly, the normally jovial sound of joy tainted with regret and sadness.

"What I want you can't give Ms. Romanoff, no matter the resources you have at your disposal. Believe me, I've tried."

There was a long pause before Banner slipped his glasses back on. A sigh of defeat escaped him, his mouth curling into another sardonic smile.

"I'm getting tired of running anyways," he said. "I'll go with you if that's what you want. Just don't say I didn't warn you when this all ends in tears."

Natasha opened her mouth to reply but tensed when she heard footsteps echoing from the entryway of the small hovel they were holed up in. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had been given explicit orders not to get near the premise unless they heard gunfire, but they sure as hell wouldn't let anyone else just waltz in.

Banner had perked up as well having apparently picked up on the noise and wisely backed away from the entrance to stand closer to Natasha.

"Friends of yours?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth, careful to keep his voice low.

"I don't have friends," Natasha replied stonily.

An Asian woman appeared at the entryway, her eyes being the most immediately noticeable feature about her. They were a pearl white, blind to the world save for the way they focused unerringly on the only two occupants in the room. Despite the lack of pupils, Natasha knew when she was being keenly observed.

The itching feeling on the back of her neck never failed her.

The woman was of average height, boasting an above average bust line and cascading brown hair that was so light it was borderline blonde. Her face was flawless, easily overshadowing even the models adorned the pages of magazines. She wore simple homespun clothes, the only thing of note on her person being a pair of sparkling crystal hair clips embedded on either side of her head.

The Black Widow narrowed her eyes, silently drawing on the spirit ribbons to try to get a read on the newcomer. Much to her surprise, there was no cloth attached to the woman. But the way her eyes flickered to the spirit clothes drawn in by Natasha was unmistakable.

This woman was spiritually sensitive.

"It's not often I run into someone who has their spiritual powers awakened," the woman said in soft airy voice, her English accented but understandable. "And for two such beings to be together…well generally that has never spelled anything good in my experience."

"And who might you be Miss?" asked Dr. Banner politely in a tone usually saved for talking to someone with a mental condition. "I'm fairly certain I don't have any spiritual powers."

Natasha decided to stay quiet, playing the observer for now. There was no telling who this woman was and what she was capable of, but if she was anything like Ichigo, fighting was not going to be the answer here.

The beautiful Asian woman remained at the doorway, her eyes now focused entirely on Dr. Banner. The man shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, unnerved by their uninvited guest's unnatural stare.

"You may call me Inoue," she responded after a long moment of observation. "I'm a wandering healer of sorts, although sometimes I cure ailments people don't even know they have. Like you for example."

"Me?" Dr. Banner asked, perplexed at the odd turn of the conversation.

The Russian spy watched attentively as Inoue reached a hand out and pulled Dr. Banner's spiritual cloth forward to examine before her eyes. The green kaleidoscope of splotches cleared from where the woman's hand made contact, creeping away as if repelled by something in her touch.

"There lurks within you a beast unlike anything I've ever seen," the newcomer murmured. "I wonder…"

The woman's grasp on the spiritual cloth tightened and she gave it a mighty yank.

Dr. Banner collapsed onto the ground like a puppet that had its strings cut, but Natasha could see that his soul form had been yanked clear out of his body.

The bewildered translucent spiritual form of Banner stared at the two women before him in astonishment, gaping down at the chain in his chest that Inoue was holding. He struggled to stand up but found his legs could barely lift him.

"What?" Banner whispered as he held up a ghostly hand for examination. "What the hell is this?"

Natasha burst into motion, charging towards the foreign woman while she appeared distracted. Shadow encased her hands in gauntlets of absolute darkness, the fingertips shaped intro cruel hook like claws with but a thought. One hand grabbed Inoue's throat in a tight choking grip while the other locked onto the woman's wrist holding onto Dr. Banner's chain of fate.

"Let him go," Natasha demanded, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Inoue smiled calmly, darting out her free hand in a sharp palm thrust into Natasha's chest. At once there was the familiar feeling of detachment as her soul departed her body. The redhead snarled as her physical form fell lifelessly onto the floor. But now that she was out of her body she felt more confident in using her powers in its full force.

The gauntlets spread out in a dark disease like pattern, engulfing her entire body in a knightly armor constructed straight from the hellish nightmares of madmen. A faceless visor encompassed her head, the harsh angled lines following the pattern of the rest of the twisted version of armor she had conjured.

Blades of midnight grew and extended from her hands, detaching to form two wicked curved short instruments of death. The weapons sliced through the air with a faint hiss as the spy weaved them in a mirrored figure eight pattern.

"I'm not going to ask again," Natasha warned. "Let Dr. Banner go."

Inoue turned her head to face the spy, eyes examining her opponent's new form with interest.

"My, you seem to have quite a good grasp of your powers for someone who's only learned of them recently," the Asian woman complimented. "Against anyone else you might have proven to be a serious threat."

The redhead frowned beneath her mask of shadow, wondering how Inoue could so easily spot her inexperience. Putting that unsettling thought aside, the spy hurled herself forward, using her shadow to enhance her speed and reflexes. Instead of directly striking at the woman, the spy launched herself at the ceiling before rebounding off it at an angle towards the wall behind Inoue.

Wood splintered and metal dented underneath her feet as she began a gravity defying free run using every surface in the room, a feat that would have been impossible for her physical form.

Natasha rapidly deflected herself from wall to wall, her movements becoming a blur of motion to the naked eye.

Despite standing in the eye of the hurricane of destruction, the Asian woman remained unmoved, her face displaying little concern.

Calling on her shadow's ability to hide from the senses of the spiritually aware, the Russian spy gave her rapid dashing a few more seconds of dizzying rebounds before lunging at her foe.

Natasha's reiatsu fabricated blade was inches away from removing the woman's head when a golden shield appeared, encasing the self-proclaimed healer.

There was a horrid screeching as blade met shield, a shower of golden sparks but no visible damage done. The armored woman slammed a knee into the shield, but it did not give way despite the heavy sound her blow made. A dozen blows was rained on the barrier with rapid succession to the same effect.

In a bright flash, Natasha found herself trapped within a pyramid made of the same impenetrable light as the shield that had so neatly deflected all her attacks. She slashed rapidly at the barrier, panicking when it showed no signs of taking any damage.

This was not good.

Inoue reached a hand out and touched the pyramid, caressing the odd structure. "You're far too inexperienced with you power to even put a scratch on _Santen Kesshun._ "

Natasha understood the Japanese name of the technique as 'Three Sacred Links Shield'. So, an ultimate defense of some sorts? Everyone had a weakness, she just had to bide her time and find it.

Inoue flattened the palm of her hand against the pyramid, her face taking on the look of concentration. " _Soten Kisshun!"_

The armor encasing the spy shattered in an instant, exploding into a thousand tiny black shards. A heaviness not so dissimilar to when she had first been forcibly brought out of her body by Yoruichi suddenly struck her, leaving her weak and barely able to stand.

"Still," Inoue said with a warm smile. "I'm impressed Ms. Parker."

Natasha started at the false name. She had given it to only one person that she knew of.

"Ishida mentioned you had some talent, but I don't think he realized you had progressed this far already," the woman continued, unperturbed by the redhead's reaction. "You might actually be able to put up a good fight in a few years."

"You know Ishida?" Natasha asked carefully.

That certainly changed things. Her gut told her not to let her guard down, but so far Ichigo and his friends hadn't harmed her. Too much anyways.

"Do you know Ichigo Kurosaki as well?" she asked, unable to resist.

Inoue gave a mysterious smile. "Perhaps. But I'm not here to answer your questions Ms. Parker."

The woman pulled on Banner's soul chain, forcibly dragging the man until he was in front of her.

"What was all that?" asked the shell-shocked scientist. "Am I hallucinating?"

He shot Natasha a worried look. "Did you drug me or something?"

Inoue was staring at Banner again with her strange eyes, her mouth moving wordlessly as she examined something only she could see.

After a long moment of silence, the woman gave another tranquil smile. "How very interesting. I haven't seen something like this since my youth. I wonder if you will be able to tame the beast as he did?"

"The beast?" asked Banner with a frown. "Are you talking about the other guy?"

The woman nodded. "Whatever you call the creature that resides in you. It is powerful, perhaps almost as powerful as the other one that I know of. It is locked deep within you, but you obviously have no control over it even if you have come to begin to understand how you can channel its rage."

"How do you know all this?" Banner demanded.

"I'm a healer," Inoue replied with a soft smile. "I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't make a diagnosis, now would I?"

"Can you cure me?" Dr. Banner asked, the desperation in his voice almost painful to hear.

Inoue frowned. "If I had been there at the time when you had acquired your unique condition I could have perhaps done something about it. Now…well it could still be done I suppose, but not without great risk to your own soul."

"Please, I'll do anything." Dr. Banner pleaded. "Release me from this nightmare."

Inoue let go of his soul chain, reaching a hand out to traced some sort of pattern over the man's head, her finger leaving a silvery pattern in the air that shimmered and vanished as rapidly as it had appeared.

"There is…" she whispered, "a touch of destiny about you. All those who are meant to do great things have it, an aura of sorts that few can detect. Whatever it is you are meant to do, I don't think this affliction was placed upon you by coincidence. No, I think it would be best if I were to leave you as you are. One day you will need this power."

"It's a monstrosity!" snapped Banner. "How can the Hulk be of any help? The only thing it can do is destroy! The only things I can do is destroy!"

Inoue frowned. "You have not tried to understand it. There is more to the beast than the unquenchable rage it exhibits. Until you come to an understanding with it, you will never truly be in control."

"How?" the scientist demanded. "There is nothing to understand! It is the primitive part of my brain given unlimited power and form, the darkest parts of humanity given flesh and blood. What is there to understand?!"

The Asian woman reached her free hand forward, resting it gently against his forehead.

"Let me show you," she whispered.

Natasha felt an odd drop in her stomach, as if she were on a plane that had plummeted a couple thousand feet. There was a feeling of vertigo and suddenly she found herself tumbling through darkness, dragged along with Inoue and Dr. Banner who was freefalling ahead of her if his panicked yells were any indication.

They fell towards a growing sphere of light, a ball of white fire that grew larger by the second. It flared and blinded Natasha completely, forcing her to raise her hands to cover her eye reflexively. A crushing weight fell upon her and she blacked out momentarily, her ears ringing.

When Natasha opened her eyes again, it was to a desolate world. She had to fight back a gasp of shock as she turned and gazed upon the ruined remains of what was once a great city of some sorts. Grand majestic skyscrapers reached up far into the filth caked heavens, well beyond what the eyes could see, giant steel and glass corpses claimed by age and rust.

Clouds of toxic yellow and green spewed across the darkened sky, forming a sea of foamy froth, flashes of lightening crawling across the tumultuous vapors like white spidery veins. The rumble of distant thunder washed over her, and she could only watch, mouth agape at the unnatural formations before her.

The streets of the broken city were grimy and deserted, not a single person to be seen. Broken down and colorless cars laid limply across the roads, abandoned by owners who had long since left whatever this place was. An endless shower of broken glass rained down from the buildings, glittering shards of diamonds that disintegrated into dust before it could hit the earth.

Life had given up on this place, chaos chased away by the boredom of a world that had consumed itself long ago and left only the mockery of what had been behind. This was a place where gods went to die, where the crushed remains of hopes and dreams drifted from the sky as ash and dust.

"What is this place," Natasha whispered in horror, barely able to acknowledge the presence of Dr. Banner and Inoue.

The Asian woman looked out at the world with the same airy expression, as if such a harsh and unforgiving place was an everyday occurrence to her.

"My, you must be a very troubled man," she commented with a sidelong glance at Banner. "I haven't seen an inner world this disarrayed in a very long time."

"My inner world?" the scientist asked uncertainly. "What does that mean?"

Inoue turned and looked at the two humans she had transported to this place. "Each of us has a world within us, a place we mentally create to retreat to in our times of need. When we sleep, when we dream, this is the sanctuary we go to."

"And this is my inner world?" Banner asked hesitantly. "A reflection of who I am?"

Inoue shook her head slowly. "No, it is not entirely your own. Not anymore."

A booming crash sounded in the distance, much too close and destructive to be thunder. A cloud of dust exploded outwards from a building miles away and an endless skyscraper began to list sideways.

The enormous tower of concrete and steel smashed into the building adjacent to it with a sound like the world coming to an end. Together they collapsed onto the ground with an earth-shaking rumble that kicked up a mountain of debris that colored the air an ashy gray.

The wall of refuse surged forward like an avalanche. Natasha barely had time to raise her hand to her face before she was swallowed by the cloud of dust and ash.

Holding her breath, she was surprised to find that the debris simple passed through her like she was a ghost. She watched as a glass shard larger than her hand tore through her sternum and out her back without ever leaving a mark.

"We are uninvited guests here," Inoue said serenely. "We are but ghost to this world. Nothing here can touch us anymore than we can touch it."

Natasha glanced over at Dr. Banner and was shocked to see that the same did not hold true for the physicist. His clothing was a shredded mess, bloody wounds showing through on exposed flesh that had been cut to ribbons. But even as she watched, the lacerations on his body seemed to grow smaller and the rivulets of blood less prominent.

"Dr. Banner," she exclaimed in alarm. "Are you alright?"

"It's him," he whispered, seemingly unable to hear her. "He's coming."

"Who's-?"

A blur of movement in the distant caught her attention and Natasha turned to watch as a spec on the horizon rose into the air, arching forward in a trajectory that was going to bring it alarmingly close to their location.

As the seconds ticked by, the distant blur became visible and the unmistakable green form of the Hulk came crashing towards them like a living ballistic missile.

The green monstrosity landed with a deafening noise a few hundred feet away from them, body coiled and hunched over. Its feet left a great crater on the floor, scattering nearby cars and wreckages like they weighed nothing.

Standing up, the great behemoth walked over to them with the deliberate motion of a predator that knew it had nothing to fear from its prey. It casually batted aside the twisted remains of a eighteen wheeler, the forty-ton vehicle screeching and spitting sparks across the concrete floor as it slammed into the side of a building.

Up close, Natasha could say with certainty that distant photography and first hand reports did the Hulk little justice. Almost twice as tall as a man and easily four times as broad at the shoulder, the green giant had thick corded muscle that bulged like truck tires rippling all along its body. Each step it took left an indentation on the ground, a soft thump like a car stereo's bass kicking into her chest.

Its breath came in harsh inhales and exhales, as if it suffered from some form of asthma, it's feature twisted into a permanent half snarl. What was most surprising was the green eyes that stared out from the unexpectedly human face. Despite the unsettling rage reflected in those emerald orbs, they also gleamed with cold calculative intelligence.

"So, we meet at last Bruce Banner," the Hulk growled.

Its voice raised the hairs on the back of Natasha's neck, the timbre and pitch of its speech so low it was like listening to the movement of the earth itself. No human vocal cord could ever hope to match that tone despite it speaking their language.

Dr. Banner straightened up, staring back at his counterpart in fascination. "You can talk? I didn't think you were capable of anything but rage."

"I was born of your rage," the beast rumbled with a savage snarl, "So I can no more shed it than you can shed your pathetic human skin. But I am not ruled nor defined by it. I simply choose to use it unlike you."

"What are you?" Dr. Banner demanded, his voice trembling. "How can you exist?"

The Hulk shrugged its massive shoulders. "Why does the sun and moon exist? Cosmic chance that has given birth to a million stars and breathed life onto barren worlds of shadow and fire. My existence is no more coincidental than yours, we are all accidents of destiny."

Taking a step forward, the green monstrosity glared down hatefully at the dwarfed man before him, jabbing an enormous finger into the human's face.

"But you, you were born king," it bit out, practically spitting acid with each word it spoke. "A nothing! A nobody who runs and cowers from your own power! And I, many times your superior must bow to your whim. Life is an unfair thing, but today you have foolishly come here to this place to challenge me. Today I will become king!"

The beast reared a massive fist back and threw it at Banner like an oncoming train. The man barely had time to flinch, but a golden barrier sprang up before him, blocking the strike.

The Hulk howled, punching away at the shield Inoue had erected around them, bringing both fists back to smash heavily against the barrier.

"NO!" the green beast bellowed. "I will be imprisoned no more! You are not worthy to be king!"

"Tsuki no mai!" shouted Inoue.

An explosion from the unscathed shield engulfed the Hulk as it brought its meaty fist against the golden barrier, sending the monster stumbling backwards. A dart of golden light shot out from the hairpin on Inoue's head, streaking forward in a flash of light. It smashed into the stomach of the Hulk, knocking the creature off its feet and propelling the massive body through the air.

Buildings crashed and fell as Inoue's attack carried the monstrosity away from them, leaving both Banner and Natasha to gape at the destruction caused by the attack.

"I think we have overstayed our welcome," the Asian woman said delicately. "Best we take our leave before the beast returns."

Raising both hands to the heavens, she made a quick slicing motion, filling their vision with blinding light again.

When Natasha's teary eyes began to clear, she found herself lying face down on the dirty floor of the house she lured Dr. Banner into. Carefully pushing herself up and checking for injuries, she glanced about and saw the unmoving form of Dr. Banner lying to her right.

"Not to worry, he is simply unconscious from the experience," Inoue said. "For a man who is not in touch with his reiatsu, forcibly going into the inner world will have taken its toll on him."

"What was the point of that?" Natasha asked as she stood up. "Why show him that?"

Inoue turned a considering look to the unconscious man. "Like I said before, this one has a touch of destiny about him. He must learn to control his power if he is to accomplish whatever it is the fates have set out for him to do. Running and hiding isn't an option for someone like him. Now that he has been made aware of the beast within him, he will have no choice but to confront it."

"What happens if he loses?" Natasha asked uncertainly. "The Hulk seems to think that if it can beat Banner then it would be in control."

Inoue smiled at the spy. "A very astute observation. I have a friend who had a similar problem. For years, he feared the power that lay dormant within, the few times that he lost control were truly frightening. Our situation eventually forced him to confront his inner power and he finally conquered it, giving him the strength to do what was necessary. Hopefully, if I'm not wrong, Dr. Banner will have the inner strength to do the same."

"And if he can't?" Natasha pressed, eyes darkening with accusation. "We don't always win against our inner demons."

Inoue stood up and walked towards the exit. She turned once to look back at the two humans inside with the same serene expression she had held throughout most of their entire encounter.

"Then I will kill him."

A chill ran down Natasha's spine at the unflinching promise from the healer.

"You think you can kill the Hulk?" she asked in disbelief. "That thing has survived a direct hit from a nuclear missile!"

Inoue chuckled gently, her expression sad. "I always found my powers rather ironic."

She raised a meticulous hand up to examine them. "The same hands that can heal anything could also destroy everything."

Inoue turned and stepped out into the darkness, her voice floating in.

"Tell Dr. Banner it was good meeting him, and to pray we never meet again. I fear if we did, it would only mean the worst."

Natasha dashed to the doorway, but by the time she got there the woman was nowhere to be seen.

"Operative Romanoff?" asked the stern-faced sergeant who oversaw the squad backing her up. "Is everything alright?"

The spy glanced at the man who gave no indication that anything unusual had happened.

"Nothing," she finally said. "Prep the Quinjet. And get Rawlings to check on Dr. Banner, he fell unconscious a moment ago, I want a report on his vitals. And get Wilkins to send an update on the situation to HQ. We've got Banner on board."

 **AN: Soooo…. what do you think?**

 **I always felt that Inoue had the potential to be the most powerful character in the Bleach Universe. Her ability as Aizen once said intruded on the territory of God, the ability to make and unmake at will.**

 **The only thing holding her back was her good nature, and perhaps arguably some BS about someone with more powerful reiatsu being able to "resist" being rejected out of existence. But if she could repair the Hougyoku and revive arrancars seemingly more powerful than herself then I'm inclined to believe it's more of a willpower issue.**

 **Anyways I tried to stay as true to the movie scene as possible on the first half while injecting things here or there, then went off the rails on a sideways tangent into a parallel universe of my own creation near the end.**

 **Leave me your thoughts, both good and bad! I love hearing back from the readers even and I might even steal an idea or two if it appeals to me =)**

 **Stay safe everyone. Until next time!**


	13. Chapter 13

**WARNING(4/26/17) : **Out of respect for the feedback I received in reviews, I'd like to mention that this chapter contains scenes that imply possible **rape** and **torture.** While I had written the scene to be ambiguous, enough reviewers have expressed their distaste that I feel a warning is appropriate. See AN at bottom for further explanation.

 **AN: A bit rushed, not that my other chapters are polished to a mirror sheen either. Let me know if you see any mistakes or inconsistencies, always appreciate thoughtful reviews, warms my heart to hear what people think of my writing.**

 **10 Years Ago – Hueco Mundo**

 _The pristine wall of untouched marble exploded into a shower of broken pieces, unable to stay intact under the power that had been unleashed against it despite its renowned reiatsu resisting properties. Nearby Hollows scattered away from the impromptu entrance into Las Noches, some attempting to flee from the enemy presence, while others turned to cautiously stand their ground._

 _Instead of the hoard of Shinigami pouring through as they had expected, a lone figure stood by the massive hole that had been recklessly torn into the side of the castle. Despite their overwhelming numbers, not a single Hollow dared charge at their sole adversary._

 _A dense malevolent aura radiated outwards from the man, a thousand invisible iron hands reaching up from the ground and holding the numberless Arrancars in place._

 _He wore a tattered coat of black, graced by a few trims of white here and there. The frayed edges of the material looking torn and burnt, fluttering like ghostly wisps on the cool air pouring in from the eternal arid desert._

 _Of average height, the trespasser held in his hand a single black sword with an odd angular hilt, the entire blade dark as the void itself. The chilling bone white mask of a Hollow hid his face, the sneering porcelain plate frozen into a twisted grimace, filled with fury and hate so palpable one could almost taste it in the air._

 _Eyes of gold and black stared out vengefully from behind the eyeholes of the mask, promising violence. For a moment, neither side moved, the only sound that could be heard was the flapping of the intruder's robes._

 _A terrifying roar was unleashed from his throat as he leapt into the midst of the dumbfounded Hollows, shattering what little will there was to fight. Fear gave most the strength to flee, although even the swiftest of legs would not carry them very far. Some stood as still as statues hoping that perhaps their presence might be overlooked. Others were pushed to the brink of madness, charging forth to face their foe even though the most foolish amongst them could sense that they stood no chance against this adversary._

 _None were spared._

 _The black blade rose and fell, a scything pendulum hissing through the air like a thousand asps. Limbs and heads were hacked off with little elegance or mercy, blood flowing like rivers to paint the untouched floors in hues of red and black gore._

 _Claws and fangs flashed, weapons were raised and abandoned. It did not matter. None stood before the man for long, and none could flee fast enough to escape his fury. Terrible cries and roars filled the atrium, the sounds of a corned animal being tortured, multiplied a thousand times over. A deathly choir wooed an invisible audience with promises of suffering and despair that tore at sanity like cruel picks._

 _There could be no other word to describe the scene other than slaughter. A God of War had descended into Las Noches and his wrath would not be deterred until the blood of the sinners ran like rivers and the bodies of his foes piled into monuments of worship._

 _At last the lone figure slowed, having slain all those in the room save one._

 _The last breathing Hollow was pinned down to the floor, the black blade piercing its stomach and into the ground below which was rapidly turning a dark ruby. The Shinigami knelt over the Hollow, breath ragged and both hands resting on the pommel of the sword as if it were the only thing holding him up. His mask cracked and began to break, pieces falling away to reveal the human face hidden beneath._

" _Where is she?" Ichigo demanded, reaching up to pull away the remains of the Hollow mask clinging stubbornly to his lower jaw. "I know she's here! Where are they keeping her Hollow? Tell me and I will make your death swift and painless."_

 _The dying Hollow was one of the newly created Arrancar that had been recruited into Aizen's army. Like the thousands of others that had been promised power in exchange for loyalty, it had been just another unnumbered foot soldier caught in a war beyond their understanding._

 _Not particularly powerful before its transformation, it had been a simple serpentine creature capable of spitting acid and coiling about its foes and squeezing them into stillness. It had never been destined for greatness, simply another Hollow that would have been swallowed by one stronger and forgotten like so many others. The answer to Aizen's offer to escape that cycle had taken little deliberation, any other response would have ended in swift death anyways._

 _In its Arrancar form it retained its viperlike fangs and reptilian eyes, the more recognizable parts of its body shaped into a mockery of the female human form. There was something decidedly wrong about her, a bestial beauty contorted from the combined form of serpent and human. Alien and disturbing without a doubt, but oddly pleasing to the eye nonetheless._

 _Her bosom rose and fell with shuttering motion, her breath unable to come with the blade piercing through her stomach and pinning her diaphragm down. She gasped desperately, unable to speak beyond a whisper that pained her with each word spoken._

" _You won't be able to save her," she hissed softly, forked tongue darting out. "No one can save her."_

 _A pained grin forcing its way past bloodied lips, death giving her the courage to spit in the face of her foe. She knew her time had come, there was nothing left for her to fear._

" _You're too late Shinigami," she said with vindictive pleasure. "Far too late."_

 _Ichigo snarled, rotating the blade in his hand savagely, eliciting a cry of pain from his unfortunate victim._

 _Leaning down until his nose practically touched hers, he glared into the cold reptilian eyes of his enemy._

" _Where…Is…She?" he growled._

 _He punctuated each of the words with a violent twist of Tensa Zangetsu. Coagulated blood flowed out in thick viscous streams, her coiled body writhing in agony._

" _Long live Aizen-sama," the Hollow whispered with her dying gasp, her body falling still at last._

 _Ichigo swore beneath his breath, standing up and pulling his weapon free. He gave the corpse a frustrated kick for good measure. Another dead end._

 _His gold flecked eyes scanned the room, looking for an exit._

 _In the distance, he could hear battle raging outside. He did not have much time._

 _Picking a random corridor, the hybrid Shinigami took off at a break neck speed. Ichigo was strong, but his power was not infinite. Alone in enemy territory, it would only be a matter of time before he used up all his strength._

 _The number of hollows serving Aizen were endless, a tide of monstrous flesh that would overcome even the strongest man who stood with no ally to guard his back. Luckily, the main forces guarding Los Noches was currently being occupied by his allies._

 _Kenpachi had agreed to take his division into Hueco Mundo as back up to Ichigo and his human compatriots, despite the Captain Commanders orders not to enter Aizen's territory until the war preparations were finalized. Even now, Shinigami from the Eleventh Division were cutting a swath through the hordes of Arrancars defending Aizen's fortress while Ichigo, Chad and Ishida infiltrated the castle with the guards distracted._

 _They had tried unsuccessfully multiple times before to rescue Orihime, following every bit of intelligence they could get their hands on._

 _Days had to turned to weeks._

 _Weeks into months._

 _It had been nearly two years since Orihime had been first kidnapped. Although she was considered an important asset and her retrieval remained a high priority, the shift of the war had made it impossible for the Shinigami to mount the sort of operation needed for a successful rescue mission._

 _The Captain Commander had finally put his foot down, declaring that one human life could not be put above the needs of the whole, no matter how important. With no more Shinigami aid, the humans from the living world could do little against the overwhelming forces standing between them and their kidnapped friend._

 _Finally, it had been Urahara who had been able to trace Orihime's unique reiatsu power and narrow down the location definitively for them. With that information and the promise of battle Ichigo had been able to convince the bloodthirsty Captain of the Eleventh Division to help him mount the illegal rescue op._

 _This was their final chance, if they failed they would no doubt all be thrown into prison cells even if they somehow managed to survive and get back to Soul Society in one piece. But Ichigo was determined not to leave Inoue behind. He had sworn an oath with Chad and Ishida before they had split up, either all four of them were returning to the human world or none of them would._

 _A sharp spike of reiatsu mingled with the familiar presence of Inoue's unique power signature brushed against the edge of his senses, so faint he had almost missed it. Without thought he swung his blade against the wall holding him back from his friend. The same scything black crescent wave of power that had allowed him to enter the castle tore through the wall standing before him, revealing another seemingly similar featureless corridor behind it._

 _Again, and again he allowed his power to rush forth, tearing down walls and carving a path closer towards where he could feel his friend's life force. Each step brought him closer to his goal, Inoue's reiatsu acting as a beacon for him to follow._

 _Finally, after nearly exhausting all his strength, Ichigo broke through a wall that revealed a different structure behind it. The darkened room was of the same featureless design, a single window on the far side giving a radiant view of Hueco Mundo's moon hanging in the eternal night sky._

 _The lone figure slumped against the far wall was enough to draw a cry of relief from the human invader, for even at a distance there was no mistaking who it was._

" _Inoue!"_

 _He stumbled her still form, his legs weak from having exerted so much of his power in such a short time, but so close to his goal he could not falter._

 _Ichigo reached the curled over body of his friend, gently resting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her around to face him._

" _Inoue, it's me! Come on, we have to –"_

 _His words were cut off by his own aghast cry as he got a good view of the woman he had come to rescue._

 _The untouched white gown she wore had hid the damage she suffered from a distance. There were bruises all along exposed flesh that he could see, a dark angry purple welt around her throat shaped in the print of a hand. Her lips were swollen and bloodstained, the corners of her mouth dyed black from dried blood._

 _Worst of all were her eyes. Orihime had always had such expressive eyes, the warmth and curiosity projecting her every unguarded thought and emotion for the world to see. Gone were those beautiful orbs, replaced by dark bloody pits that sunk into her eye socket, the angry streaking red scars across exposed skin evident of a blade that had ended her sight._

" _What did they do to you Inoue," Ichigo moaned as he cradled the whimpering girl to his chest, the wet tears from his eyes coming uncontrollably. His heart tightened at the unimaginable horrors she must have suffered at their hands._

" _Ichigo," Inoue cried, clinging to his robes._

" _Hush Inoue," the man whispered as soothingly as he could. "It's ok, we'll get you out of here. Unohana will fix you up, you'll be good as new. I promise."_

 _Ichigo had never felt so helpless in his life. He had promised he would make things right, but what could he do in the face of Inoue's suffering? He tightened his grip on her, preparing to carry her out if necessary. Either they would leave or he'd make sure to end Inoue's suffering himself._

 _The soft wound of footfalls reached his ears, but he could not bring himself to look away from the broken form of his friend._

" _Odd, isn't it? She has the power to remake and unmake all things in existence, yet the one thing she can never change is herself."_

 _A deep seething hatred welled up in Ichigo's chest as he at last turned to glare hatefully at the Espada crowned Numero Cuatro in Aizen's army._

 _Ulquiorra Cifer stood a bit shorter than Ichigo himself, a Hollow of slim build and pale complexion. His detached bottle green eyes stared out from a handsome face marked by two green tear lines down his cheeks framed by dark hair. The remnants of a Hollow mask clung to the left side of his face, the shard reaching around the back of his head like a helmet that had been sliced in two, a single pointed horn jutting out to the side._

 _His hole was nestled center above his breast in the valley of his throat and collar bone._

" _Bastards!" snarled Ichigo. "Why did you do this to her?! What the hell was the point?!"_

" _To help her see better," Ulquiorra replied emotionlessly._

" _You tore out her eyes to help her see better?" demanded Ichigo in disbelief. "What the fuck are you saying?!"_

" _She has a power that infringes upon the territory of God," Ulquiorra said flatly. "Yet her powers are held back by her mortality. In losing her physical vision, she has been gifted with sight that allows her to see nothing but the truth."_

" _You're fucking insane," Ichigo spat furiously. "I'm going to end you!"_

 _Inoue let loose a cry of pain, hunching over and folding her hands over her abdomen, curling into the fetal position in her agony. A torrent of reiatsu was released from her body, more power than Ichigo had ever felt before._

" _Inoue!" he shouted as he held his friend close._

" _It's your fault you know," Ulquiorra continued as he looked down listlessly at the suffering woman. "I wanted no part in it. She suffers now because of your existence."_

" _What the hell are you babbling about?!" Ichigo demanded angrily._

 _The Espada tilted his head to one side. "Can you not feel it Kurosaki? Can you not feel what is happening to her reiatsu?"_

 _Ichigo looked down at his tortured friend, reaching his senses out. Her unfathomable power washed over him, stronger than anything he'd ever run into. Yet there was something different about it. Almost as if there was something foreign inside it._

" _Aizen-sama is fascinated by your existence," Ulquiorra continued, dragging Ichigo's attention away from Inoue with his dull droning voice. "A being born of a human mother with unusually high spiritual energy and a father who was a Shinigami. You achieved in a short time what would have taken others decades, perhaps even centuries. Even now your power continues to change and grow, neither human, Shinigami nor Hollow."_

" _What does this have to do with Inoue?!" the hybrid human snarled. "What the fuck did you do to her?!"_

 _The Espada looked down pensively at the ground. The silence between them seemed to stretch on for eternity._

" _He was curious you see," the hollow finally said. "If a Shinigami and a human could produce such a powerful offspring, what would happen if a Hollow and a human were to sire a child?"_

 _Ichigo felt his heart pulse in his ears, the implication in his enemy's words coupled with the odd foreign signature in Inoue's reiatsu finally making sense._

" _You bastard," he whispered, hands trembling helplessly at his side. "You utter bastard."_

 _Ulquiorra looked up, staring unflinchingly at his adversary. "I am a monster Kurosaki, but there are even some lines I would not cross. I did not force myself upon her, she came to me willingly."_

 _Ichigo stood up, his sword in hand, power radiating from his form. Blackness had begun to creep its way into his eyes, his words barely understandable as he fought to force them out between his trembling lips._

" _ **Liar!"**_ _he howled, his voice deepening into a monstrous growl._ _ **"She would never stoop so low!"**_

 _Bleached froth spilled from his lips, thick snow white liquid leaking from eyes alight with madness._

 _The Fourth Espada straightened up. "I am the embodiment of emptiness. I alone understand what having nothing left feels like. For her to have been trapped here for two years amongst her enemies, who could understand her better? Aizen-sama wished to know what would happen. I obliged, but I never once forced her to do something she did not want."_

 _The final words from the Hollow seemed to have finally pushed Ichigo over the edge. A torrent of power exploded forth from his body, engulfing the entire room in blinding destructive energy._

 _ **Ichigo Inner World**_

 _The dark reflection of Ichigo stared pensively at the crumbling world before him, his eyes narrowed as he tried to process what was happening. The King's inner world was made up of a large number of skyscrapers, the weather above them an indication of his emotions._

 _Never before had the Hollow seen such a storm brewing, the sky was pitch black, dark thunder clouds that swallowed up the entire heavens raining destruction all around him. Entire structures were being destroyed in bright flashes of light and thunderous noise, the rubble tumbling into the abyss below them._

 _A howling hurricane force wind blew all around, forcing the Shinigami's inner demon to fight for his footing. It was so bad that the Hollow had to jam his blade into the ground to not be blown away._

" _What the hell is happening?!" demanded Hichigo loudly, turning to look at the manifestation of Zangetsu._

 _The rugged middle-aged man in the black cloak was scowling more fiercely than usual, but in his flinty eyes was a hint of worry that was beginning to alarm the Hollow. Zangetsu never looked worried, not even when Hichigo was attempting to dethrone the King. This was bad._

" _Come," Zangetsu said, "We must go to Ichigo."_

 _Hichigo scowled as he watched Zangetsu leap off the rooftop, bounding forward using the falling debris as stepping stones to head towards where Ichigo was. Cursing beneath his breath, the Hollow followed after a brief moment of hesitation, seeing little alternative._

 _They found Ichigo standing on top of the tallest building in his mindscape, his back turned to them, orange hair whipping wildly in the wind._

" _Oy King," shouted Hichigo as he landed besides Zangetsu. "Get a fucking grip! You're going to destroy all of us if you let this continue!"_

 _The human did not respond, standing still as a statue._

 _Temper flaring even further, Hichgio marched up and grabbed Ichigo by the shoulder._

" _You dumb fuck, are you even listening to me?! You're going to-!"_

 _The Hollow's words were cut short as Ichigo's hand shot forth, grasping a vice like grip around his dark counterpart's neck._

 _Hichigo could feel his power being drained, but was unable to move his body to stop the process._

 _He watched in panic as his form began to fade, the hand that was gripping his throat bleaching white at the fingertips, then crawling up to engulf Ichigo's entire arm._

 _Zangetsu came to stand beside them, watching silently as the Hollow was forcibly absorbed by Ichigo._

" _My powers are yours Ichigo," the sword spirit manifestation said solemnly._

 _The sky lit up in a blinding flash, a dazzling bolt of lightning coming down and striking all three of the men._

 _ **Hueco Mundo**_

 _A quick motion with Sonido and Ulquiorra had darted forward to grab Inoue and moved them both away into a safe distance._

 _The explosion of power continued to radiate from the room they had fled, the roof caving in and the nearby walls and corridors collapsing under the strain of the Shinigmai Hollow hybrid who had lost control of himself._

" _Ulquiorra," Inoue whispered softly, from her resting position on his leg, reaching a hand to cup his face._

 _He reached out his own, carefully entwining his fingers between her delicate digits._

" _Do you regret it?" he asked softly._

 _Inoue gave a bitter smile. "No, I do not. And I hate myself all the more for it."_

 _The Espada nodded his head once. "Promise me something Inoue."_

" _Anything," she whispered._

" _Don't let them punish our child for our sins. They will try to destroy them for simply existing, but no one is born guilty. Promise me you will give them a chance to live their life, to choose their own path."_

 _Inoue nodded once, her ruined eyes staring unerringly into his. "I promise."_

 _A flash of red shot up towards the heaven, the overpowered cero a beam of absolute destruction that cut through the sky in a crimson display of awesome power._

 _Ulquiorra stood up. "He will not be satisfied until my mangled corpse lies at his feet, this is not a fight I will win. With this, you will be able to go home at last. Goodbye Inoue."_

 _Gently laying her on the ground, the Espada turned his back resolutely on the one woman that had for a moment filled the emptiness of his heart, and doggedly marched towards the one enemy he would not be able to defeat._

" _Goodbye my love."_

 _He savored the final words of the only woman who had briefly warmed his cold existence, allowing their meaning to give his feet strength. Death was not something he feared, only failure. Once upon a time that had only meant failing Aizen-sama._

 _But now, he had a greater purpose. He would not live to know what it meant to be a father, to help bring another life into existence and nurture it to adulthood. But his death would give another a chance to live._

 _Power surged through his body, Ulquiorra didn't even bother with his released form, transforming into his most powerful state in an instant._

" _Long live Aizen-sama!"_

 _With that uncharacteristic war cry, the battle between two titans was joined._

 **Present Day**

His cellphone rattled on the kitchen counter, the vibrations bumping the device up against his keys adding to the noise that suddenly filled the house. Ichigo frowned at his phone, wondering who it could be calling at this hour. He had just finished dinner and was in the process of putting away the dishes he had just hand washed.

Drying his hands on a towel, he picked up the phone and glared down at the unknown number. There were only a handful of people who had access to his personal number, he always gave the clinic line for anything else. Never once in the twelve years he had this number had anyone accidently dialed him.

As the insistent vibrating continued, his curiosity got the better of him.

"This is Ichigo."

"Hey there," the sultry voice of one Natasha Romanoff sounded into his ear. "So, I just met your friend Inoue."

Completely thrown for a loop at the unexpected direction the phone call had taken, the ex-shinigami answered with the first thing that came to mind.

"What were you doing in Africa?"

"India, actually. Just picking up a package. Learned some interesting stuff from your friend though. How come you guys never told me about my inner world?"

Ichigo frowned into his phone, wondering exactly what had transpired between his old friend and the spy.

"It's not really anything you need to bother with. Only Shinigami really have need for it, everyone else is just a mental space they create."

"Uh huh. You ever hear about someone with a monster hidden inside their inner world?"

" _Heh, a monster she says. Sure, you do. Why don't you tell that redhead hottie about moi?"_

Ichigo could feel the beginnings of a sharp headache lancing through his temple. He seriously did not need Hichigo butting into an already complicated situation.

"Nope, never heard of it," he replied as blandly as possible.

"Liar," Natasha chuckled through the phone. "Fine, keep your secrets. It's not really my problem anyways."

The soft rumble in the background that Ichigo had been hearing since the start of the odd conversation got the better of him. "Are you traveling right now?"

"Airplane," she replied. "Delivering that package, I told you about earlier to my boss."

"Do I even want to know?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

There was an expectant pause before she replied hesitantly. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but things might get hairy the next few days. Hopefully none of it will make it into the news, but bad things could happen if I screw up."

Ichigo clucked his tongue, weighing his next words.

"Are you in trouble?"

"I'm always in trouble," laughed the spy although it was tinged with some uncertainty. "Usually it doesn't involve the rest of the world though."

" _Dude,"_ said Hichigo. " _Damsel in distress bro, time to do our thing and get laid!"_

" _Shut up,"_ Ichigo snapped internally. _"You stay out of this!"_

"You don't sound too sure of yourself," he said gruffly. The unspoken offer of aid hung between them, something Ichigo could already hear Ishida scolding him for.

There was a long pause on the other end, as if the spy was seriously considering taking him up on the silent offer. Distant voices could be heard muttering in the background, too soft to be understood over the sound of whatever transportation the Russian was traveling in.

"I'm a big girl," Natasha finally responded. "I can take care of myself."

Sighing, Ichigo drummed his free hand on the kitchen counter. "Any reason you called me other than to tell me about your run in with Inoue?"

"Nothing important. Can't I just want to hear a friendly voice?"

"You've made some poor choices in life if I'm the one you go to for a friendly voice," Ichigo responded flatly.

Natasha laughed again, this time the sound lacking any mirth at all. There wasn't much to be said when both sides understood that what might have sounded like an insult was the closest thing to acknowledging what might pass for friendship between them.

"How's Yoruoichi doing?" she asked lightly, changing the subject.

"She's gone back to Soul Society."

"You guys never did explain how that worked to me. I mean she's technically dead, isn't she?"

Ichigo sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's complicated."

"Isn't it always?"

Ichigo grunted noncommittedly. "I'm hanging up."

Natasha laughed again. "Fine. Next time I drop by I expect actual answers."

The doctor rolled his eyes again. "I'm moving to an undisclosed location soon. Good luck finding me."

The spy laughed. "There's no place on earth you can go that I can't find."

This time it was Ichigo who gave a derisive laugh. "Who says I'm going to be on earth?"

He hung up before the startled woman would respond.

"So, that was the Natasha Romanoff I've heard so much about?"

The deep voice of Ichigo's old friend Chad held a tint of amusement despite his expression being relatively passive. The world-famous boxer was seated causally at the table where the two men had been eating at. His large frame making the furniture look slightly ridiculous in comparison, like an adult sitting in a child's chair.

Ichigo shot his friend a peevish look.

"That Ishida is the worst gossip in the world," he grumbled darkly. "I'm gonna kick his ass the next time I see him."

"It is human nature to be curious of the relationships between those closes to us," chided Chad with a hidden smile. "And she does sound like an interesting woman."

"Don't you start on that as well," Ichigo complained.

The large half Mexican half Japanese man hummed noncommittedly. "Your love life aside, have you given our proposal any more thought Ichigo? Jackie and I would be delighted if you would accept our offer."

The relationship that had sprung up between Chad and their former nemesis Jackie Tristen during the war had been rather unexpected, but their romance had lasted through the years despite the questions they had faced at the beginning.

"Chad, I'm honored really," Ichigo said with a sigh. "But I don't think I'm the best choice for godfather for your unborn child. I'm not going to be around for much longer."

The dark-skinned man laughed. "Ai, but you can watch over them in death can you not?"

Ichigo chuckled sardonically at how literal that expression was for someone like him.

"I suppose I'm not going to be able to change your mind, am I?" he asked ruefully.

"I would want no one else taking care of my child should my wife and I pass unexpectedly."

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, you win. I reserve the right to say I told you so when this goes down in flames."

Chad gave a wide smile, reach out a hand that Ichigo automatically clasped, their palms gripping each other's forearms in a familiar grip. Friendships could fray and weaken with the passing of the years and miles in-between, but bonds forged in the fires of war were timeless.

"You don't know how much that means to me Ichigo," the larger man said quietly. "Thank you."

Ichigo smiled despite himself.

"So, you ready for your match?" he asked, purposefully changing the subject. "This is what, your thirty second title defense?"

The dark-skinned man had joined the boxing world a little bit after the war, and had rapidly gained a reputation as an undefeatable champion. He had conquered three weight classes, starting as a Light Heavyweight before finally settling for being the Heavyweight Boxing Champion of the world.

Even without taking his spiritual powers into consideration, Chad was still tougher than anyone Ichigo knew. This was the man who had taken on a hollow without powers and _actually won_.

Chad nodded with a smile. "It might very well be my last. Jackie doesn't like seeing me get hit, and she doesn't want our child to grow up watching their father get hit. I think I will retire after this fight."

Ichigo nodded, raising the beer bottle in his hand in a silent toast. "That's a good thing as far as I'm concerned. As much as I like winning bets I place on you, from a doctor's stand point getting punched in the head is terrible in the long run. I know you have Inoue look at you to make sure nothing's wrong, but I still feel better knowing you're avoiding the noggin hits."

Chad raised his own drink to clink against Ichigo's before bringing it to his lips. "Besides, the construction company is starting to take off the ground; I haven't really needed the fight money for years."

The doctor nodded, happy for his friend.

"On another note," Chad said his expression getting serious, "Did you feel that reiatsu eruption a day ago?"

Ichigo frowned, remembering the sharp spike in reiatsu he had felt in the clinic despite the distance. It had been a short-lived thing, barely a second long, but for a moment it felt almost like someone had opened a Garganta.

"I did," he said. "Yoruichi was pulled back to help investigate. Last I heard the location of the disturbance was some research facility out in Nevada. It's a hole in the ground now. They said the actual destruction had nothing to do with spiritual power so as far as I know it's case closed for the Shinigami."

Chad frowned. "You would have think they've learned by now."

Ichigo snorted. "Yeah well no one ever accused them of making the best decisions in the world. We'll have to keep our eyes peeled. World's been peaceful for too long; it never lasts."

He glanced over at Zangetsu hanging on the frame over the fireplace.

Chad eyed the sword as well.

"It's been a long time since we've gone to war," the larger man said quietly. "I had hoped that we could avoid it again in our lifetime."

Ichigo sighed and placed his now empty bottle on the counter, staring moodily into his distorted reflection in the amber glass. "There's no telling what this is. I'm sure the Shinigami will take care of it if something does turn up."

The boxer echoed his friends sigh. "I'd like to believe that, but experience tells me otherwise. Just be on guard Ichigo."

The two men allowed the comfortable silence to build between them, both lost in memories of darker times when war had been all they known. It would be a terrible thing to have to go back to that, but both men had survived what had been labeled as the worst crises the spiritual world had ever faced. There was nothing that would make them flinch from doing what was necessary to protect them and theirs.

Nothing.

 **4/26/17 - As mentioned above, I added the warning in after looking at the reviews left by a large number of readers. I had written the scene with no explicit implication of rape and left it up to the reader to interpret as they saw fit so I did not feel a warning was necessary when I first posted, however I can understand that not everyone expected that graphic nature of that scene despite this being a rated M story.**

 **In truth, I myself did not write this with an actual act of rape in mind. Aizen is a cold bastard, however I see him more as a manipulator rather than someone who uses brute force. He captured and trapped Orihime and put her in a situation where her loneliness and despair would push her to seek solace in Ulquiorra in order to satisfy his curiosity of a human/Hollow hybrid child. The act was consensual. Would some people still consider that rape? Probably. Will I change the scene to make it less** **ambiguous? Probably not. I wrote as intended and good or bad reception it will stay that way.**

 **As a side note, while it's doubtful I would ever include it in this story, in my mind it was not Ulquiorra or even Aizen who had blinded and physically tortured Orihime, but Tosen. Of the three shinigami who betrayed soul society, Tosen is the one with a few screws loose in his head in my opinion. Aizen was an ambitious asshole who wanted to be greater than the soul king and he made no apologies for it. Gin wanted to kill Aizen for what he had done to Matsumoto, classic case of being revenge driven. Tosen is the one who believes what's being done is for "justice", and in the face of that he really is capable of anything.**

 **One other thing I'd like to address is the fact that Ichigo hasn't played a central role in the story, at least not as much as Natasha has. He was never meant to be the central figure despite playing a big role and I don't think that's going to change, but it has been pointed out that my summary doesn't quite match what is being created. I will take a look at it and see if an update is necessary, but that probably won't happen until the next update.**

 **AN(4/25/17): Not much to say I guess, times been slipping away from me again despite my attempts to get this out sooner rather than later. At the rate I'm going I think Infinity Wars part 2 will be in theaters before I'm done with this story XD**

 **Anyways let me know what you think, I know it got a little bit dark there, but I wanted to again dip back into the war and how it had shaped my version of Ichigo and his friends.**


End file.
